How Bad
by The Bog Witch
Summary: Just before Princess Serenity's birth, a nursemaid has to take care of a young Prince Endymion and his four guardians, all of which are holy terrors. Younger versions of almost all main characters appear, along with politics, paint, and unimaginable evil.
1. Hopelessly Optimistic

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters/settings belong to Naoko Takeuchi et al. This is a non-profit endeavor, done just for fun.

A/N: A few things I'd like to mention: As the names of Endymion's parents and Princess Serenity's father were not mentioned (as far as I know), I've made them up. These names and any others I've had to make up were all taken from Greek/ Greek mythology, and, with any luck, will 'fit' with existing character names. I've also tried to keep the age ratio "correct" (by basing it off of the ages stated in the Sailor Moon Materials Collection). If anyone thinks I screwed this (or anything else) up, please tell me as soon as possible so that I can correct it.

Chapter One: Hopelessly Optimistic

There I was, standing in the middle of the paint-smeared throne room, covered in at least two gallons of cherry-red watercolor mess, holding a dishrag. A pathetic, graying dishrag.

"I can fix this!" I said. Suddenly, I remembered just who I was talking to, dropped into a curtsy, and promptly fell backwards. From somewhere far off, I heard the laughter of the hell-demons—er, I mean _children_, yes, darling children. I slipped in a peacock-blue puddle, thereby creating a charming peacock-blue stain on my already sopping petticoat. More laughter.

"See that you do," said the king, who thankfully looked more shocked than angry. And then the throne collapsed. One of its legs rolled across the marble floor.

"Uh…" Oops, he was definitely angry now.

"Oh those children, your Majesty!" I said, trying to sound like I hadn't totally lost control of the situation. His face was turning an unattractive shade of purple. "Always so playful, so energetic, so …" _Evil. _I thought._ So thoroughly and completely evil._

"Yes, Amalthea, but…are you sure you can handle this?"

"Oh, yes, your Majesty! It's no trouble at all! The children love me!" _Love me right over a cliff, that is. _I babbled on for what seemed like an eternity, until he finally decided to leave.

A wall tapestry crashed to the floor just as the double doors closed. And that was, essentially, my first day at Latmus, the Earth palace.

_How bad could it be? _My own foolish words mocked me. I wished I'd never opened that letter. The letter was where it all began, innocently enough, as these things tend to begin. I was back on the moon, at the time.

I worked as a nursemaid, or was going to be. Queen Serenity hadn't had her baby yet, but it wouldn't be long until she did. Serenity and Hyperion, the moon king, hired me early, so all I was doing was loafing around, waiting for the day to come.

It might seem odd, that they'd already engaged a nursemaid, but let me tell you one thing about Serenity and Hyperion: they were prepared. And, when I say prepared, I don't mean ordinary prepared, no, these people were _Prepared_. Capital P absolutely necessary. They read every book they could get their royal hands on about parenting, and had searched out the most venerated tutors at damn near the child's very conception. They had toys crafted and linens stitched and the royal nursery repainted twelve times until it was the exact shade of pink they'd had in mind. (They knew it would be a girl, of course, the line of Serenity had been having girls since practically forever. It was just one more way that they were Prepared.)

Everything had to be just so. There had to be just four guardians for their daughter (several recently born princesses of neighboring planets fit the bill), there had to be exactly seven stuffed rabbits arranged in her crib, each with its ears held at an exact 45 degree angle, three and three sevenths of an inch apart. The palace had to be scrubbed top to bottom, the hedges trimmed, the bakers were already being given instructions on the cake preparations for the child's first birthday. (It had been calculated by several court mathematicians that said cake would take the better part of a year to prepare anyway. Now, an average cake would spoil after that long, but apparently this one was not meant to be eaten. ) Exactly one hundred and forty-seven midwives arrived to be interviewed for the position, and exactly one hundred and forty six were promptly turned away. Serenity knew _exactly_ what she wanted.

In short, they'd been driving the whole palace, perhaps, even, the whole kingdom, crazy.

I was stunned that I'd been chosen as one of the twenty-four nursemaids (one for every hour of the day, although this was somewhat symbolic. We were all to have five hour shifts.) I'd worked with older children, mostly. The only reason I'd gotten the job at all was because, after being told precisely what would be expected of them, most of the prospective nursemaids suddenly had other engagements, magically forgot everything they knew about babies ("So you hold it by the head, right?" said Mrs. Hinglestone, who had raised seven children of her own, and just about half the town's on the side.) or came down with highly infectious long-term diseases.

My mother always used to say: "You know what the problem is with you, Amalthea? You are a hopeless optimist." And she was right. Even after hearing that the princess could only be burped on the left shoulder, could only be bathed at the beginning of the hour, and could only be exposed to direct light for six and a quarter hours daily, I still took the job. _How bad could it be?_ I'd thought.

It hadn't gotten bad yet, of course; the girl still wasn't born when I received the letter. Serenity and Hyperion left us nursemaids to our own devices, for the most part. I didn't have anything to do, so I was pleasantly surprised when the court messenger tapped me on the shoulder.

"I believe this is for you," he said, and handed it over.

Such little, insignificant words, but they were the precursor to my own personal, cherry-red colored hell. I didn't know it at the time, so I tore open the letter, blissfully unaware.

It was from my cousin, Phoebe, who worked as a nursemaid as well. She and I had been close as children, and, when she told me how nicely she was getting paid working at the palace on Earth, I decided to seek out my own employment at the moon palace. Of course, that had been several months before, and her letters came less frequently. When they did come, they were always covered in jelly, or some other sticky substance. This one was no exception. That was my first clue. It's too bad I didn't pay attention, but such is the way of a hopeless optimist.

I read the letter twice. It went as follows:

_Dear Amalthea,_

_Have taken v. ill. Need to stay in bed for at least a month, the doctors say. A month! Well, at least it will give me a few moments peace, I can tell you that! But, King Phaeton and Queen Gaia are livid! At first they were all understanding, "Oh Phoebe, take a few days, I'm sure we can find someone else to fill in!" _

"_Good luck with that, your majesties." I said, and I really meant 'good luck to whatever poor slob you get to fill in', because Amalthea, those boys are the most horrible, rotten little rug-monkeys I've ever—but it's not for me to say, really. Some days I don't know why I stay, but, they grow on you. Like weeds. _

_Anyway, wouldn't you know it; their majesties couldn't find anyone else willing to watch them! Don't know what they're going to do. Don't care, really, so long as I can get a few days rest. Of course, you know how it goes, Amalthea. The children run into my room at the crack of dawn just like they always do! There isn't anyone else, so I'm trying to watch them as best I can from bed, but … who knows what they're getting up to when I'm not around? _

_Scratch that, I know exactly what they're getting up to: trouble. I hope things are going better on your end. Well, I bet they are, yours isn't even born yet. And, there'll be just one of her, thank your lucky stars, Amalthea. I hear that girls are easier, though I wouldn't know. You'll have to write when it happens and tell me. It might take me a while to get back to you, because of my—oh no! I heard a crash. I hope it wasn't expensive. I'm going to go and see. At this rate, I'll never get better!_

_Yours,_

_Phoebe_

It wasn't really Phoebe's fault, even though I dearly wanted to blame her. I got my own fool self into this. _How bad could it be? _I thought and I wrote back immediately, saying that I could fill in for her. I wasn't doing anything, and the princess wouldn't be born for another month or so anyway. Phoebe answered, sooner than I expected, with this:

_Amalthea,_

_ARE YOU CRAZY?_

_Yours,_

_Phoebe_

No, I told her, I'd already cleared it with the king and queen. I liked children, and it'd be nice to get some more practice in before I'd be responsible for a child whose rabbits' ears had to be arranged at a specific angle. She replied:

_Amalthea,_

_Well, it's your funeral. I'll tell them, I'm sure they'll be falling over themselves for joy._

_Yours,_

_Phoebe_

And so it was set. I took the next teleporter down to Earth. I arrived in the early morning, and the palace guards let me in immediately, looking somewhat relieved.

The throne room was bigger than I'd imagined, filled with expensive tapestries. (Just how expensive, I'd find out later, when I was desperately trying to find replacements after the watercolor fiasco.) It was decorated in green and blue. (And I'd be oh-so-very thankful for those dark colors later, let me tell you.)

I met Queen Gaia first. She was tall and tan with dark hair, everything that Queen Serenity was not. By the look of the stack of papers she was rummaging through, I could tell that she was by no means Prepared. I heaved a sigh of relief. I could use a little dysfunction. Or so I thought.

"You must be …" she fumbled frantically, until she came upon a wrinkled sheet of paper, "Amalthea?"

"Yes, your Highness," I said, dipping into a curtsey. She probably hadn't noticed; her head was still bent over the papers.

She smiled. "Thank goodness you're here!" I thought for a moment that she might hug me.

"Oh it's no trouble, your Highness," I said, curtseying again.

"I'm sure you'll find the job very easy," she said. "The children are _such_ little angels. I can't imagine why we couldn't find anyone else to fill in for Phoebe."

I didn't know what to say to this, but it made me feel hopeful. _Of course, I was right in the first place. How bad can it be? _

"You'll want to meet the children, of course?"

"Oh, yes."

She called them in, all five of them neatly coiffed and grinning angelically. _This will be no trouble at all,_ I thought. _Look at how good they are, so quiet, so—oh!_

I gasped as I felt something cold and scaly on the back of my neck.

"Is that a – a SNAKE!" I yelped, flinging the creature.

"Oh," the queen chuckled, "That's just Mr. Snuffles, Endymion's pet. He's harmless. He always seems to be getting out of his cage, I can't imagine how!"

I could. But then I looked at the five boys, with their innocent smiles, and thought _Nah_. That was my second mistake. (My first being volunteering for this torture at all.)

Suddenly, King Phaeton walked in, followed by several clucking advisors in long red robes.

"Who are you?" he asked. The advisors flailed their arms behind him; it looked as though they were having some sort of silent argument.

"Amalthea, your Majesty." I curtsied. "I'm here to look after the children while Phoebe is sick." I added, seeing his blank look.

"Oh-Amalthea, yes. Good. May I have a word with you?" he lowered his voice. Confused, I nodded. He sidled over to me, out of his wife's earshot, and said:

"Watch out for the little one." He slipped me a few coins.

"Oh, thank you." I said, shocked.

"Yes, good luck. " And then he muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'I give her two hours'. I laughed to myself. _What a funny man! He sure has a good sense of humor, for a king. _Naively, I looked to the children. Surely he must have been joking. Such angelic faces! It would be easy, just as Gaia had said.

After all, how bad could it be?


	2. Watch Out for the Little One

A/N: Wow! I hadn't expected such a great response. Woot! As a special thanks to all my reviewers, here's the next chapter freakishly sooner than I'd thought it'd be.

Chapter Two: Watch Out for the Little One

"Well, I'm sure you'll be good friends!" gushed Gaia. By then, I realized that she was one of those people who always speak in exclamation points. She was like a happy fluffy poodle, whose sole joy in life was to jump around and make on the rug. Alright, so maybe not that last bit, but she was definitely fluffy-poodle material. Maybe in a past life … Ahem. Queen Serenity, so calm and Prepared and soft-spoken, was her polar opposite. The change unnerved me.

"I'll just leave you to get acquainted! Have fun!" She tripped out of the room, thin little heels clicking as she walked.

"So," I looked at the children, giving them my best smile. "What would you like to do?"

It was an innocent question. Really, no one could've possibly predicted what happened next.

They glanced at me, took one quick look at each other, and bolted, all in different directions.

"Uh… " Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this was an _organized _attack on my sanity. "Are we playing hide and seek!" I called.

I didn't know where to run. They could be anywhere! _I've been watching them less than five minutes and I've lost them already! _ I realized, in awe.Now, this is the point where any sane person would do the sensible thing and quit. But me? Do the sensible thing? Oh no, not me. I'm an optimist. A _hopeless _optimist.

Ugh.

_I'll look back on this and laugh, one day_. My crazed optimism had clearly sucked the reason from my brain. _Yes. Laugh. _ I straightened and tried to compose myself. Now, here we had five boys, ages ranging from two to eleven. If I were I small boy, loose in a large palace filled with expensive breakables, where would I be?

The thought broke over my head like a faulty light fixture.

Oh dear. I felt as though I needed to sit down. All those delicate decorations! _And, if I know anything at all about children … _Crash!

Okay, well, that could've been anything, really. Maybe a kitchen maid dropped a plate, or a stable boy tripped on the carpet or – Bang!

Still, that wasn't necessarily… no, of course not. Some one is clearly re-arranging furniture, that's – Pop!

Hey, it was a popping noise. What on Earth can you break to make a _popping _noise? I wrung my hands, and started to go for the double doors. They'd left through the smaller side doors, but, I couldn't remember which ones. Maybe it would be easier to start in the main hall. Yes, easier, how hard could it be? Boom!

_Not a problem! Not a problem_! My mind rang. _I can handle this. No trouble at all. _Bam! From the left. I whipped my head around. _Okay, I can still handle this. Think positive, think positive. _

I rushed down the halls, ignoring the stares I was getting. Where could they—oof!

"Oh no! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"

"Really!" exclaimed the man. He had long iron-colored hair. "If you can't pay more attention to where you're going, then maybe you ought to find a position elsewhere. Running around like you've been set on fire, you'll get someone killed!"

"I'm sorry," I cowered, he had such cold eyes, "I was just—" I sputtered. I didn't want to admit that I'd already lost track of my charges, especially not to this broad-shouldered man, right here in the middle of the hallway.

"Well?" He glared. "Should I send for someone to escort you off the premises right now?"

"I—"

"What's going on here? You don't have to scare the poor girl." A gargantuan woman stepped forward, looking to be somewhere in her late fifties. I didn't think that anyone could stand up to those cold eyes, but she stood her ground.

"It's not your place to interrupt."

"Hmph, such words to someone who's looked after you since you were knee high to a grasshopper? For shame!"

"I don't have the time for this!" He growled and walked off.

"Don't have time for this, he says, well, don't you mind his Lordship over there. Always was a sulky child, I did say. But just what _did _you think you were doing, rushing around like that?" The woman put her hands on her hips; her formidable bosom heaved.

I flushed. "I'm looking for the children, they just sort of—"

"Oh, so you're filling in for Phoebe?" Her expression softened.

"Yes, and I—"

"Well, you'd better hurry up, then. No telling _where _they've gotten to now, mind, but I can tell you one thing: it won't be pretty. And do try to watch where you're going."

"Thank you!" I called, as I broke into a run. Checking for signs of small life-forms, I made my way through the palace. Well, that last sound had come from somewhere to the left of the throne room. I headed left.

This took me into a living room. The couch was light green and the oak furniture gleamed. A thick oriental rug covered the floor. The coffee table was slightly askew. Upon further inspection, I noticed that one corner of the rug turned up slightly.

"Aha!" I said, aloud. Now if only …

"Achoo!" The curtain sneezed. I grinned. Success!

I tiptoed over to the windows, arms outstretched. I was ready to make a grab for him, if I had to. (And, if I weren't such a hopeless optimist, at this point, I would've realized that yes, I_ had to_.)

Pulling away the curtain, I lunged, capturing him before he had a chance to escape.

"Ha-ha!" I murmured. I set him down when I realized he wasn't struggling. It turned out to be Zoisite, who was about two, with curly red-gold hair. _Aw_ I thought, and in a moment of regrettable weakness I was distracted by the cuteness. Big mistake.

_Watch out for the little one, indeed! _I thought, oh so foolishly,_ Look at him, all sweet and adorable and nothing bad could possibly ha—_

"ARRGG!" I screamed as he kicked me in the shins. Sweet lord, it hurt! _Probably gonna have a bruise the size of the entire Asian continent._ I rubbed my sore leg as he ran off.

"Okay, I stand corrected," I said to his receding form. "Watch out for the little one."

I limped to the door, trailing him. He was fast. All two year olds move at approximately ten times the speed of light when being chased, by the way. (Conversely, when asked to pick up, they move so slowly that you have more than enough time to bake cookies, build a seven mile wall around your house, and perform open heart surgery on a heavily sedated baboon, all before they've finished. It's like a cosmic law.)

I'd only arrived that day, so I had no idea where we were going. Setting my jaw in determination, I followed the child into the unknown. Here I was, stoutly going where, quite possibly, no nursemaid had gone before. Hey, it was a big castle, and, apparently, most of them didn't last very long. (I was beginning to understand why.) I could end up anywhere.

Sometimes, I had to dodge servants and noblemen, and, on one memorable occasion, a small barking dog. It seemed to believe that it was a Doberman, rather than a mere fluff-ball of indeterminate origins. It didn't like me. The tooth marks on my leg proved it.

Zoisite found this hilarious.

Bravely, I pressed on. I knew, at this point, that I would never be able to find the throne room again, let alone the other four boys. Oh no. Four boys. I hadn't remembered that. There were four unattended boys, all under the age of twelve, running free in the palace of a thousand breakable objects, doing lord knows what, to lord knows who, in a place that likely, only the lord knows about. I sprinted behind him, panting, the gravity of this knowledge weighing heavy on my tired, tired brain.

He scampered through a whitewashed door. From the barrage of noise emanating behind it, I figured it was the kitchen. _Ho!_ _Got you now, you little— _

"AAH!"

And oh the delightful crescendo of pain I was treated to, as the frying pan hit my head! I fell backwards onto the tile floor, groaning. Everything went hazy for a while.

"You alright?" asked a familiar voice. I opened my eyes, acutely aware of the throbbing ache in my skull.

"Wha-what happened?" The expansive form of the woman from before loomed over me.

"You were hit by a frying pan. Slipped right out of my hands when this one here ran into me, " she gestured behind her, but I was too preoccupied to look. "You alright?"

"Yes, " I said. "It's only some internal hemorrhaging. I'll live."

"Here." She helped me to my feet. "I'm Mrs. Pease, by the way."

"Amalthea," I said. "Thanks. This is the second time today you've helped me."

"Don't think anything of it, no trouble. You've had quite a morning, I'd wager."

"Yeah." I sat on a high stool, prodding the bruise on my head. _This,_ I thought, _is my third battle wound, if you count the dog attack, and it's only my first day! At least it can't get any worse._

Famous last words, right?

Anyway, Zoisite was sitting at the table, reaching for a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"None of that, now, you," said Mrs. Pease, slapping his hand away. He regarded her reproachfully, but sat back in his seat. "Don't you worry," she turned to me, "You'll get the knack of it."

"I hope so. I really do."

"You'll have to find the rest of them, of course."

"Yes, but how? I've only just arrived; I don't know where anything is."

"Just follow the trail of broken pottery, that's how Phoebe managed it."

I laughed. "I should probably go talk to her. She's my cousin, you know."

"Thought as much. I knew you had to be some sort of relation, agreeing to come and look after those lot."

"I'm sure they're quite dear, when you get to know them."

Now it was Mrs. Pease's turn to laugh. "Well, you are an optimist, aren't you?"

"Hopelessly." I replied.

"Feeling better? Shouldn't be any more serious than a bump."

"Oh yes, thank you. I suppose I should be going to get the others."

"Be sure to take this one with you," she said, helping Zoisite off of the chair. "Can't have him getting underfoot."

"Right. Thanks again." Zoisite in tow, I left the kitchen. My hand closed around his tighter than a bear trap in mid-winter. There was no way I'd let him get away again. No way.

"Okay, let's find your partners in crime. Where do you think they'd be?" I looked down. He shrugged. Somehow he'd managed to sneak a cookie from the kitchen. I thought about taking it away from him, but, it was keeping him quiet, so I let it go.

We wandered through the palace for a full ten minutes before I remembered Mrs. Pease's advice: follow the crashes. The bump on the head must have left me giddy, because I decided to enlist Zoisite's help.

"Hey, how about we play a game?"

"Game?" He said, eyeing me dubiously.

"Yes! It's called "Follow the Path of Unspeakable Destruction". Sometime, soon, I think, there's going to be a crashing noise. We have to be very quiet and listen for it, alright?"

He nodded.

We listened. Sure enough, a loud series of gunshot-like bangs sounded.

"Aha!" I whispered, "That way!"

We crept towards a set of glass pane doors. They led into a peaches-and-cream ballroom, complete with dainty crown molding and two long white ash tables pushed to one side. Gauzy cream curtains were draped over the corners of the room.

"Hmm …" the remains of a vase lay in a sad heap on the table. Little porcelain chunks littered the floor. At least one of them had definitely been here. I hoped that their Majesties wouldn't be taking all this out of my pay.

My sweet, sweet pay, which, thus far, looked to be the best thing about this miserable job.

Something under the table rustled. Tip-toeing to the tables, I crouched down, still clutching Zoisite's hand. This was going to be one fantastic maneuver. I was going to have to hold on to him, _while_ catching and subduing whichever other little hellion waited under the table. If I pulled this off, I knew I would deserve some sort of medal.

_Now or never_ I thought, and, one-handed, I struck. My fingers grasped a small arm, not too hard, I hoped. Still, I knew I would need to hold on for dear life.

He fought like a wildcat as I dragged him into the light.

"Come on, let's get this over with," I grunted. Nephrite. Five years old. I seemed to have him partially by the hair. I loosened my grip, adjusting it so that I wasn't tearing anything off of his scalp.

Standing in the middle of the abandoned ballroom with a small child in each hand, I was faced with a new dilemma. I, Amalthea, was only one person. Therefore, I, like many other people, only had two hands. Only two. There were five boys. Between them, that was ten hands. Hands down, I was beaten.

The two I had already seized were currently trying to run in opposite directions, pulling my arms painfully.

"Oh no you don't!" Said poor, two-handed me. What could I do?

Well, I could, feasibly, tie them all up and cart them around in a wheelbarrow. Somehow, I didn't think that Gaia would appreciate that. (Phaeton, on the other hand, might understand.)

There was always the option of leaving one or two with Mrs. Pease, but she'd already done enough for me for one day. Plus, they'd never get anything accomplished in the kitchen. (And I likely wouldn't even be able to find the kitchen.)

The only option was to somehow get them to cooperate. Easier said than done, of course.

Sighing, I plastered the biggest smile I could muster to my face.

"Okay boys, how about we play a game?"

"What kinda game?" Nephrite frowned.

"A fun game!"

They seemed to be buying it.

"The others are hiding … " I invented, and it really wasn't far from the truth, "and we are going to find them. Hide and seek. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"No!" They chorused, but that didn't mean jack-didly. I had them. They were already looking around the room.

"Not in here, you two. Let's go see who can find them first!" There, a healthy bit of rivalry never hurt anyone.

We searched high and low, combing the rooms of the castle. Every so often, I'd hear a crash, and shudder.

"What could they be doing?" I said aloud.

"Playing hide and seek?" ventured Nephrite.

"If this keeps up, we're going to have to play 'Amalthea has a stiff drink'" I said, unthinkingly.

"What's a stiff drink?" asked Zoisite.

"Uh… never you mind, hey, is that Prince Endymion over there?"

"Where!" They yelled, both fighting to get to the random corner I'd pointed to first. Oh yeah, this was working all right.

We found Jadeite with his head stuck in an overturned jug.

" 'm stuck!" he yelled. He had alarming lung power, for a four year old.

"Hold on—"

"Stuck!"

"Yes, we'll—"

"'M stuck!"

"YES, I know! Hold on for a bit, and I'll get you out." I turned his head this way and that, trying to ease it out of the jug. This wasn't looking good. How much air would he have in there?

The other two, of course, found this to be just about the funniest thing in the entire world.

"I think we're going to need some sort of lubricant…" He flailed his arms, hitting me square on the nose.

"Oof!" Ugh. Injury number four. That was going to hurt in the morning, I'll tell you.

Just then, Kunzite walked into the room. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he started to make a break for it.

Luckily, pain had sharpened my senses to a needle-fine, burning point. (Oh how it burned!) I grabbed him by the collar.

"You're not going anywhere, " I said. "Jadeite's stuck in the jug and—stop laughing, all of you! It's not that funny!"

"No laughing!" wailed Jadeite, from his terra-cotta prison.

I convinced Kunzite to hold the jug while I tried to pull Jadeite free. He screamed so loudly; I was afraid I'd rip his head off. I dropped him in alarm. All that screaming probably wasn't helping the air situation, either, but I couldn't tell him that. It's not a particularly calming thought.

"Lean forward," I told him. The jug was deep, so I thought that I might be able to break the bottom without hurting him. At least he'd be able to breathe.

I tapped the jug against the floor tentatively. I steeled myself, and then put the jug down. I just couldn't do it. What if a piece of porcelain flew up and hit him in the eye?

"We have to get him out." I said.

Kunzite ran out of the room.

"Not again!"

"Well, maybe we can get some butter or something from the kitchen." One problem though. "Um … do either of you know where the kitchen is?"

Nephrite pointed left, Zoisite pointed right.

Not helping.

"'M _stu-u-uck_, 'malthea!" You know it's a good whine when a one syllable word gets stretched to two. Jadeite squeezed three syllables out of that poor sucker. This was one world-class whine.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out soon." I said, comfortingly. "Try not to move too much."

I couldn't just leave him in there. I would have to risk breaking the jug. _What's an eye, after all? He's got two. It's like nature's spare wagon wheel! _(I admit I wasn't at my best right then.)

Just in case, though: "Close your eyes."

I prepared myself mentally, lifting the jug. Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I jumped.

"ARG—hey! You came back!" _Ha-ha_, I said to myself, _I'm doing something right!._

Kunzite had returned with a file.

"Thanks!" I exclaimed, hugging him. He coughed.

"Oh. Stop with the hugging, huh?" I asked.

He nodded. Clearly, he was a man of few words.

"Okay, Mister Jug." I grinned wickedly, "I believe you have met your match! Fear him, for he is Mister File! Bwahahahaha!" I blame the frying pan for this little outburst. Or possibly some sort of disease from when that little dog bit me. Brandishing my new weapon, I faced my clay foe.

Mister File, as it turned out, was also a man of few words. But, oh did he get the job done. Yes.

"Alright," I said, when I'd sawed off the bottom of the jug. "Let's go to the kitchen to get some grease or something."

Kunzite knew the way, so we followed him until we came to the kitchen.

"Amalthea!" said Mrs. Pease. "Just who I wanted to see. One of yours got in here." She gestured to Endymion, who had managed to stuff an entire cookie in his mouth while her back was turned.

"Mmph," he said, and after that there was no stopping the rest of them from attacking the defenseless confectionaries. Let us have a moment of silence for the many brave pastries that lost their lives that day.

Mrs. Pease helped me remove the remainder of the jug from Jadeite's neck.

"Do they have a place where they can … destroy things that aren't worth more than my life and job combined?" I asked.

"There is a playroom. Somewhere around here. I'll bet they know the way."

So we headed out to the play room. I mostly followed Kunzite, seeing as he was the oldest. (Rule of thumb: don't take directions from anyone under six years old.) We came to the throne room on our way. I was wondering if this sort of thing was allowed; could we really just troop through here anytime we liked? No one had said anything yet, so I decided to run with it.

I pushed open the double doors.

Gaia was standing there, in the midst of a pile of documents. She didn't seem annoyed that we were there, but, from what I had seen of her, she didn't seem to have the capacity to _be_ annoyed. Gaia was off in her own, wrinkled paper, dreamy little world.

"Why hello!" oozed Gaia, patting Endymion on the head, "And what are we playing?"

"'Malthea gets a stiff drink!" Zoisite shrieked, before I could even open my mouth.

Gaia's eyes widened. Okay, I stood corrected. There were, in fact, some things that annoyed Queen Gaia. Duly noted.

_Note to self: Watch out for the little one_.


	3. Don't Eat That

A/N: Here, for anyone who cares to know, are a few notes on patterns I'm liable to use and where the story is going. Each planet's culture will be based (very, very loosely) off of an Earth culture. Earthen nobility will have gemstone names. The Senshi's names, regardless of their respective planet's cultural base, will remain the same for recognizability. Plus, I personally find it annoying when they are referred to by different names, even though it makes sense to do it that way. I will do my best to make sure all names are fairly prounoucable to the English speaker's toungue. (Not that you'd have to say them aloud, but I dislike it when characters are named things like 'Fgukhxx'; I think it makes it hard to remember the character and disrupts the narrative.)

Chapter Three: Don't Eat That

Somehow, I managed to explain the situation to Gaia. She seemed willing to let it go, but I suspected that she still believed that I was a wino. (Indeed. After that day, I often caught her making little drinking motions in the air whenever she thought I wasn't looking.)

Oh well. We ended up in the playroom, where I made the fateful watercolor suggestion. Not my best idea, needless to say.

I don't want to go into the sordid details, so I'll leave you with this advice: never EVER provide several rowdy children with several gallons of paint. They just don't mix.

The throne room will likely never be the same again.

However, I woke up on my second day of employment at Latmus feeling quite cheerful. The way I saw it, there was no possible way that today could go any worse than yesterday. I figured the boys had already destroyed everything of both monetary and sentimental value in the entire palace.

Oh how wrong I was.

The hell-spawn ran into my room at the ass-crack of dawn, and, again at around seven, after I'd shooed them out the first time.

After breakfast, Phaeton stopped by to talk with me.

"I want to give you the itinerary for the next few weeks," he said. "Numerous foreign dignitaries will be stopping by, so try to keep the children far, far FAR away from the meeting hall. At any cost. The last thing we need while conducting intense international negotiations is a repeat of yesterday's … fiasco." He heaved a sigh. "And also, in a week's time, you'll take the children to the I-N-T-E-R-P-L-A-N-E-T-A-R-Y G-A-M-E-S."

It took me a few moments to work out this amazing piece of air-spelling, which never was my strong suit anyway.

Then it hit me.

"You mean you got tickets to the Inter-"

"Shh! Don't say it aloud!" He cast a haunted look at the children. I half expected him to add 'you'll invoke their wrath'.

The Interplanetary Games. I was impressed. The event took place once every four years, and you had to sell your house, all your possessions, and possibly your soul to get in. Being King definitely had some perks.

Now if only I could survive the rest of the week.

By midday, it wasn't looking too likely. For one thing, remember Mr. Snuffles, Endymion's snake? He went MIA at around nine-thirty. I advised everyone I met to check inside their shoes before putting them on. The noblewomen all looked at me funny when I passed by, after that.

"'Maltheeeaaa," whined Jadeite, "we're bored."

"Really bored," added Nephrite.

I glanced out the window. No torrential rain.

"We'll go outside, then." I said, grandly.

"Can we bring these?" Nephrite held up four wooden swords. I twitched involuntarily.

"No." The last thing I wanted was to be smacked with wooden swords for two or three hours.

"Kunzite gets to bring his!" said Endymion.

"That's because _he_ has lessons." And also knew better than to whack me with it. Whose bright idea was it to make wooden swords popular presents for the under-seven crowd, anyway? What next, explosives?

Uh-oh. The lower lip thing. Not going to work.

"How about we bring a ball?" A nice, safe ball. So soft and round and non-pointy. Why can't more toys be like the ball?

Twenty minutes later, after the ball had been repeatedly hurtled at my head, it became apparent that the ball was a tool of evil.

The dastardly creation flew over me and into some bushes, no doubt to spite me. It was just that cruel.

"I'll get it, " I sighed. "Stay here." I walked backwards toward the bushes. I already knew better than to take my eyes off of them. So far so good. Kunzite was practicing his sword fighting, and Jadeite was examining some little flower. Endymion was pulling up grass. Nephrite and Zoisite seemed to be arguing over something, but eh, a little healthy rivalry is good for a person. It's not like they'll kill each other. At least, not while I go get the ball.

Faster than a speeding boomerang, I reached into the bushes. Ha-ha, I thought, gazing upon my round foe. I grabbed the ball.

"Got it!" I cried, spinning around. At first, it didn't register. I stood there for a moment, shocked. I couldn't understand how they had gotten down to it so quickly. My back had only been turned for a second. Finally, my senses returned to me.

"Stop that!" The argument had degenerated into a fistfight. I pulled Nephrite off of Zoisite.

"Now, Nephrite, " I said, "You should know better; you're bigger than him."

"But he bit me!"

"He started it!"

"Nuh-uh! He did!"

"Alright, well, either way, no more fighting," I said, exasperated.

"Amalthea! My sword is stuck!" Kunzite called, from a few yards away.

I turned. "Stuck in what? It's made of wood."

"It's caught in this bush!"

"Okay, I'll be right there." I turned back to Nephrite and Zoisite. "Why don't you two just play with this ball?" I held up the round menace hopefully. They looked less than enthusiastic, but agreed.

I ran to go help Kunzite. "Jadeite, don't eat that!" I called, over my shoulder. He dropped the caterpillar with a start. It scuttled off, presumably in search of a less dangerous habitat. Like a bird's nest.

"Let's see," I inspected the sword-eating bush. Spiny needles protruded from every branch, glistening wickedly in the sunlight. Of course. Gingerly, I reached for the handle. I tugged on it with all my might, grunting. "Er—think I've got it!" I twisted it to the left, then to the right. No dice.

Buzz!

"What's that noise?" I asked, exhausted from the effort. He shrugged. It was a familiar, droning sound, not entirely unpleasant in and of itself. Still, something about it reminded me of the way a glass of grape juice looks just before it falls off the table onto the white carpet. Ominous.

I looked down.

A bunch of small, buzzing insects had swarmed the bush. They alighted on the sword, but didn't come near the handle. Uh-oh.

"Is that – are those … bees?" I sounded much calmer than I felt.

"No," said Kunzite, bending down. He tilted his head to the side, examining the winged creatures. "Wasps."

"Wasps?" I said, faintly.

"Looks like it."

"Wasps." At first I couldn't quite believe it. "So, this bush is not only prickly, but also infested with wasps?"

"Yes."

"Oh." The wasps crept ever-closer to the handle. My skin prickled. "So, now would be a good time to…"

He nodded.

Wasps, I realized, as we fled the scene, are a bit like bees. A bit like bees, only, wasps _never die_. Never. Not after they sting you, not even after you step on them. Wasps are immortal. Wasps are also very, very vengeful. Do not attempt to remove unwanted wasps from clothing with your fingernails. This only serves to enrage them.

And wasps, remember, are immortal

I learned this lesson the hard way.

Ow.

Kunzite, of course, remained unscathed. Because wasps enjoy harming me, especially. I'm their favorite. Whoo.

Good thing I'm not allergic.

I sent Kunzite inside to get his spare sword. Yes, _spare_ sword, so help me. If I had only known of its existence sooner… I shook my head. Best not to dwell on it.

I glanced at the others. Well, at least Zoisite and Nephrite weren't fighting. In fact, they seemed to be getting along quite well. They were huddled in a circle with Endymion. Jadeite was sitting in the middle and the four of them were apparently having some sort of conversation.

Oh dear.

Even I could tell that something must be wrong. Slowly, I walked over, afraid of what I might find.

"Guys? What are you doing?"

"Go Jed, go!" laughed Endymion, egging him on.

My eyes widened. "Don't eat that!" Weren't wasps enough?

"Go, go!" The others cheered.

"Jadeite," I warned. But he wasn't listening to me. The helpless caterpillar dangled between his fingers, green and wriggling. He tilted back his head.

"No!" I lunged, grabbing for it. I skidded, sliding across the grass. Arm outstretched, I aimed for the furry little caterpillar.

Face meet dirt. Scrambling to my knees, I spat out bits of mud. But where was the caterpillar?

"Where'd it go?" My fingers raked the grass in vain.

"Oh, I can't believe he did it!" Nephrite squealed. My stomach churned.

"He did? He –he—" I stammered, whirling around to face the child in question.

"Jadeite ate it!" Zoisite informed me.

I swallowed. This couldn't be good. Weren't some kinds of caterpillar poisonous?

"Uh, hey Jadeite?" I asked him, trying to keep my voice even, "Could you … un-eat the caterpillar? I mean, you didn't swallow, right?"

"Mmph," Jadeite made a face. His cheeks bulged.

"You didn't, did you?" I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Aw, you said you were gonna eat it!" said Endymion, disappointed. "It doesn't count if you don't swallow."

"Yeah, swallow!" urged Nephrite.

I shot them a look. Thankfully, they quieted. "Spit it out, now, come on."

"Mmph." He shook his head.

"C'mon, it can't _taste_ that good. Spit it out." I coaxed. "You don't really want to eat a caterpillar."

As it turned out, he really _did_ want to eat a caterpillar. I clapped him on the back, though, and, surprised, he spit it out.

"Gross!" said Endymion, appreciatively. I felt ill.

"Alright, I think it's definitely time to go inside now."

I hustled them inside, a considerable feat considering that there were four of them and I had a ball in one hand. We met up with Kunzite at the door.

It was close to noon, by then, and lunch was looking pretty good. Of course, it looked a lot worse when Mrs. Pease and I were scrubbing it off the walls. I staggered out of that kitchen like an army veteran returning from the war. Oh the horrors! The deep and threatening quiet before the food fight, the chaos of the fight itself, the squashed fruit in piles on the floor, casualties of a violent battle… I think they ate. I'm not entirely sure how much eating went on. Everything happened so fast.

This explains my general dishevelment, which, I guess, excuses some of what followed. Sort of. But I maintain that the first part of it wasn't my fault at all.

I herded the children into the play room, arguing all the way. They wanted to paint. I, of course, knew that they had already painted—all over the kitchen. And, let's not forget the watercolor fiasco. There was no way I'd give them oils. They insisted that they'd be good. I was not fooled by this.

"Now how about we read a nice book?"

"No!" They whined, as I jimmied the door. It seemed to be stuck.

"It'll be fun. You all could sit down, and I could sit down, and you could be quiet."

They made faces.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it. I shall read you … um," I thought back to the picture books I'd read as a child. 'The Pinkest Unicorn" clearly wouldn't be a crowd pleaser here. Then I thought of the books on Queen Serenity's approved list. I didn't think they'd enjoy "The Longe and Short Historie of the Lunare Royal Family, Complete with Notes on Heredity, Diplomacie, and War-Crafte", either. The ancient spelling alone made my eyes water. Still, _Something_ had to appeal to them. "Well, we'll just look around and see what you've got." I said.

They pouted. Why wouldn't this door open?

"I'll do funny voices and everything!" I threw up my hands. If that doesn't get them, nothing will.

They sighed, but begrudgingly agreed. _Ha-ha! _I thought. _And now to this door!_ I heaved with all my might and the door swung open. I jumped two feet back. By this time, I'd been expecting a bucket of water to drop on my head, or a slingshot full of oatmeal to be launched full-force at my face or something. When it became apparent that no bucket or oatmeal was forthcoming, I cautiously walked inside.

And was confused. I looked at the boys. They shrugged. Even Kunzite didn't seem to know what was going on.

"Um," I said, addressing all of the people that shuffled bemusedly about the room, "Is there—is there something I can help you all with?" I wondered if I should curtsy; they were all dressed magnificently.

"Yes!" boomed a huge man, with a thick yellow beard. "When are we going to get down to business?"

"Business?" I repeated. Was there something King Phaeton forgot to tell me?

"Such darling children!" cooed a woman. Her long, blue-green hair glittered with thousands of glass beads. She pinched Zoisite's cheek. He bit her finger.

"Uh … sorry about that." I said, and for a second it looked like she was going to freak out. Luckily, her expression changed and she laughed it off. I noted, however, that she wouldn't come within a foot of any of the children after that. I didn't blame her, although I do believe that there's a special tour bus through the underworld reserved for those who pinch children's cheeks.

"We have much to discuss," a soft-spoken man in long crimson robes said.

"We do?" Alright, this was now, officially weird.

"Not with you, dear," laughed a blonde woman, garbed in gold.

"You do know why we're here?" asked another, dark haired woman. This one was tall and well-muscled.

"Hmph," growled a man wearing a strange black headdress from the corner. "_Everyone_ knows why we're here."

"Oh … of course I do," I stuttered, because, really, what do you say to that?

"Good," said a man in white. He looked somewhat familiar, though I couldn't place where I'd seen him before. "So we'll be beginning soon?"

"Some of us have labs to get back to," added a wild-haired man in an oddly cut blue suit.

"Oh, well, yes. I—" The children were huddled around my legs, unused to so many imposing people.

"We all have duties to attend to," said a woman. I recognized the figure as the soldier of time. The long green hair and the sailor uniform were unmistakable. _But what is the soldier of time doing,_ my mind asked, _in the playroom?_ It was odd certainly. _Here it is, only my second day, and already they're springing the soldier of time on me? Shouldn't they wait until at least the third day? Give a girl time to acclimate? _

"Of course," I said, finally. It seemed like the right thing to say. Kunzite tugged on my skirt.

"These," he whispered, seeing my distress, "are the foreign dignitaries."

"The what!" I nearly yelled. _Excuse me? This is_ not_ in my job description! I don't do dogs, I don't do windows and I don't do foreign dignitaries!_

"They're here to discuss the asteroid thingy. You know, with the boundaries and such," he continued.

Oh yeah, that 'thingy' is right. There'd been a whole row over it; people have been talking about it for months. Four new asteroids had been discovered and all the planets wanted to claim the new territory. The asteroids were tentatively named Vesta, Ceres, Pallas, and Juno; some plants grow there that have amazing healing properties, sort of the 'rainforest' of the universe. That's pretty much all the common people knew about the asteroids themselves.

What we did know was that everyone wanted something from the asteroids. The Mercurians want to preserve and research, the Venusians want timber and resources, the Jovians and Uranians want to colonize, the Martians want to build temples. Earth wants a piece of the land for resources/colonization, and doesn't care what happens to the rest of it. Saturn wants slaves, and nobody knows what Pluto wants; she hasn't said. The moon wants the rest of them to get along. The asteroid people just want to be left alone.

"Here?" I asked, flabbergasted.

He shrugged.

"Surely they aren't discussing this _here_?"

"Earth is, as of now, a neutral territory and—"

"Yes, yes," I whispered. Obviously someone had been paying attention to his lessons. "But right here in the playroom?"

He shrugged again.

"Well?" said the man with the beard.

"Uh …" Something was clearly amiss. I couldn't imagine Phaeton would consider conducting business in the playroom. And he'd have told me if he'd meant to have them meet the children. They were in no state to be presented to anyone anyway, all covered in dirt and grass, and, in Jadeite's case, little bits of chewed up caterpillar that I hadn't noticed.

"Did I hear you say 'playroom'?" asked the man in the crimson robes.

"Playroom?" yelled the yellow-bearded man.

"Surely we're not expected to conduct intense international negotiations in a _playroom_?" the woman with the blue-green hair tossed her head and the glass beads jangled.

"Well, I—"

The woman in gold interrupted me. "We must have gotten the wrong room."

"All of us?" said the wild haired man. "We didn't come in together."

"I'll say," said the man in the black headdress, "I was waiting here for ages."

"It seems a tad odd," agreed the tall woman, "that we would _all_ be in the wrong room."

"Surely King Phaeton knows the layout of his own castle?" said the man in white, who I realized must be the lunar dignitary. I had seen him around the moon palace from time to time.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you," said the tall woman, "but I received a notice to come to this room at the door."

"So did I," said the soldier of time, "but it had King Phaeton's seal."

"It must have been a last minute change, then," said the man in crimson. "Perhaps, he made a mistake?"

"A mistake!" bellowed the yellow-bearded man. Apparently, he was one of those people whose voices never ebbed below a roar. It seemed an unusual quality for a dignitary, but then, I had never met a dignitary before. The whole experience left a rather bad impression upon me.

Suddenly, one of the red-robed advisors burst through the door. "Goodness, that door sticks!" he exclaimed, "I've been trying to get to you for almost five minutes! Hello all! If I may speak to the nursemaid? We'll have this straightened out in a hurry." Even though I hadn't done anything, I felt insanely nervous as I made my way towards him. (Not an easy task, as the children were all but clinging to my legs as I went.)

"Err…yes?" I said, in a low voice. I looked down guiltily, sure that I was going to be blamed for this somehow.

"Right, Amalthea is it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, there's been a small accident in the west wing of the palace…"

"The entire west wing?" That would explain why they wouldn't go to the throne room (which was supposed to be centrally located but was slightly westward due to an architectural error), and it explained why they weren't in any of the numerous meeting halls, but why here? And what could fell the entire west wing? The children were with me.

"Wasps," he said. I shuddered.

"Wasps?" I said, trying to sound innocent.

"Yes, apparently someone disturbed a bush of them, and they got in through an open window. They have taken up residence in most of the meeting halls. We've closed off the west wing. The exterminators are on it."

So much trouble over wasps? If I hadn't been the victim of a wasp attack just recently, I wouldn't have understood.

"Um, okay … but why are they here?" I nodded to the dignitaries, who were grumbling in the opposite corner of the room. It certainly wasn't the grandest room in the palace. Crayon and watercolors stained the walls. Grape juice colored the rugs. There were toys and books on every available surface, and on top of that, everything, absolutely _everything_, was smeared with raspberry jam. (Don't ask.)

"Maybe it was the first room the King could think of, on such short notice?" Ah, so this was a 'pick-on-the-new-girl' sort of thing. "Or, wait a minute … I actually think this was Queen Gaia's idea. Yes, that's it. She wanted them to 'meet the little angels' while they were waiting." Oh so it was merely a poor judgment sort of thing. Gotcha. The 'little angels' in question were currently trying to remove my legs from their sockets. It was working.

"Oh." I grunted, struggling to remain standing.

"Listen, you're to keep them occupied while we get rid of the wasps. Shouldn't be more than an hour."

An hour? Just great. I made a mental note to put 'does not do foreign dignitaries' on my resume in large type.

"Alright," I whispered. What more could I do? He was just closing the door when another red-robed advisor barreled into him. As the new guy huffed and puffed I realized that I'd never in a million years be able to tell these advisors apart. They all looked exactly the same, with their thinning hair, and tired expressions.

"What is it now?" The original advisor said, irritably. "Out with it!"

"Assassins!" He gasped.

"What?" yelled one of the dignitaries.

"Nothing, nothing, " the original advisor said, "Not to worry." He waved them off. "Go on," he urged the second advisor.

"Well, it's a lucky thing about those wasp, as it turns out," he panted. "While the exterminators were searching for signs of wasp-like activity, they discovered several assassins. The hard way."

I winced.

"I won't go into the gruesome details—they'll be plenty of time for that when this leaks out to the public—but a couple of the exterminators just barely escaped. We're sending in a few of our best men to get rid of them, the assassins that is. The west wing is still, thankfully, sealed off. The assassins probably meant to kill some of the dignitaries –we don't, as of yet, know which ones." He paused for breath. "Keep them here, " he said to me, "No one must know _anything_ about this."

I nodded dumbly. The advisors left, door closing behind them. A thought struck me.

"Wait!" I said, jiggling the door handle, "How do I know when to bring them—" I jiggled the handle harder. Some of the dignitaries were staring. "No problem!" I called, hesitantly. "All's well … just, " I grunted, pressing against the door, "a slight delay."

Yep, the door was definitely stuck. It was made to be solid, too, no way less than ten strong men could break through it. (This was, of course, a necessity in reigning in the children.)

Okay, so here I was, stuck in a room with nine foreign dignitaries, and five young children. Outside, we were surrounded by wasps and assassins. And now, all the dignitaries were staring at me, looking for an explanation. An explanation, which, by the way, I was forbidden to give.

Oh crap.


	4. The Pinkest Unicorn

A/N: I thought it might be appropriate to mention that I'm going to stick (mostly) to beings within this solar system, in the interest of cutting down the already unfortunate amount of characters. I probably won't ignore other areas of the galaxy completely, but there won't be an awful lot said about them. Also, there are some (minor) swear words in this chapter (and others). I don't think that the small amount I've used warrants a higher rating, but if anyone thinks otherwise, please feel free to mention it and I'll change it.

Chapter Four: The Pinkest Unicorn

"…So the pinkest unicorn trotted happily through the candy cane meadow of sunshine and perpetual joy. Trot trot trot. 'I will get some oats' she thought. Trot trot trot. 'Oh how wonderful it is to be a pink unicorn!'" I glanced upward nervously. This was by far the most difficult audience I'd ever had. And I didn't mean the children.

The nine foreign dignitaries were squeezed into squat yellow chairs more than three sizes too small for them. No one looked too pleased with the situation, but, after the boys had screamed for the better part of an hour, it was decided that the book was the lesser of the two evils.

All in all, I think I handled the situation rather well. After the initial mass-panic, that is.

I had stood, gaping, at the door, uncertain of what to tell them. After all, I wasn't allowed to tell the truth, and I knew it would be a bad idea to even think of letting on about the door. We were now trapped in a palace full of assassins. And wasps. Both at the same time. Not a good impression to make.

"Um … " I turned to the staring dignitaries, "There's been a – a slight delay in the proceedings. Shouldn't be long."

"What kind of delay?" asked the man with the wild hair.

"Oh…well—" I considered my words carefully. "Wasps." I blurted. So much for considering my words carefully. Maybe it would be alright. The second advisor had said that I wasn't to say a word about the situation, but, thinking it over, he may have meant the assassins part, anyway. Besides, other than wasps or assassins, what else could possibly detain the meeting? I couldn't very well say that the king had the runs.

"Wasps?" roared the yellow bearded man, "I'm not afraid of wasps! Move aside!" When a guy that huge says move aside, you move aside. He pushed the door with all his might. The doorknob rattled, then fell off, leaving a complicated set of gears encrusted with raspberry jam.

"Stuck!" He yelled. And that's about when the mass panic thing happened.

"What will we do?"

"How long will we be in here?"

"Wait, everyone," I said, struggling to make my voice heard, "It's alright, really. As soon as they get rid of the wasps, they'll come get us." No one was listening to me. The boys huddled around my legs again, thus completely immobilizing me. Fabulous.

"'Malthea, make them stop!" begged Endymion, throwing his arms around my waist.

"Uh … well, I'm trying but I don't know if I—"

"You don't know?" Nephrite's eyes went wide.

"Don't worry, they'll—"

"Hold on! Let me through!" The wild haired man pushed through the throng. "If we can't open it by brute force, let's try and solve this intellectually." He examined the gears in the door and tried to fit the doorknob back into its proper place.

"Hmm…" he said, scratching his chin.

"Well?" asked the tall woman.

"Oh, I see!"

"Aha," said the woman in gold, "and just what do you see?"

"The problem."

"Now we're getting somewhere! Can you fix it?" asked the gold woman.

"Yes."

Everyone cheered.

"Wonderful!" said the lunar dignitary, "Now, get on with it."

"Oh, I can't do it here."

"What!" everyone yelled.

"I thought you could fix it," grumped the man in the black headdress.

"I can. Just, not without the proper tools."

"Could it be possible," said the crimson robed man, looking to me, "that there would be something we could use in this room?"

I shook my head. "Not unless you want a wooden hammer or a paintbrush. We don't even have hairpins in here."

The wild haired man sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. This door needs a whole new set of gears and tumblers—not exactly something the average person would have just lying around. These are amazingly complicated, for a simple doorknob. The jam completely ruined the mechanism."

"How did jam get into the doorknob?" asked the gold woman.

"It's a long story," I said. The children whistled innocently, shifting their eyes to the wall.

"If we are going to be here for a while, we'd best make ourselves comfortable," the crimson robed man said.

"Well…we do have these," I gestured to the little yellow chairs. One thing I will remember for the rest of my life is the sight of nine proud foreign dignitaries lowering themselves into miniature chairs, wiping off traces of jam distastefully.

And then the second freak-out began. I should've known. The boys hadn't destroyed anything in almost half an hour. They had a lot of excess energy. Surprisingly, my words to them from before had really made an impression. They wanted a story and they wanted it _now_.

The dignitaries had their own ideas.

"Since we're all here, we could start the meeting…" said the gold woman.

"Without the King? That doesn't sound very fair," said the lunar dignitary.

"In a playroom? Never!" exclaimed the woman with the beads in her hair.

"Well, I don't see why we can't get a few minor issues hammered out," said the wild haired man, "No sense in wasting _time_." He jabbed the soldier of time with his elbow. Yeah, like she hadn't heard that one before. It must be difficult, to be a senshi, I decided. (Especially for the soldier of Uranus…)

The soldier of time glared.

"Oh please," said the man with the black headdress, "spare us the pitiable Mercurian humor!"

"Was that a racial slur?"

"So what if it was?" grumped the man in the black headdress.

Uh-oh.

"Please, we are all here to _resolve_ our differences. Let us stop the petty arguing," said the man in the crimson robes.

"Oh yes, that's a lot coming from a Martian!" said the gold woman.

"Excuse me? Why can't you Venusians leave that alone? The war was two-hundred years ago!" said the tall woman.

"You stay out of this! _Your_ lot are no better than they are! Or have you forgotten the Venusian Massacre?"

"You're just sour because your planet always gets its collective butt kicked in battle."

"Oh, and being a race of lumbering behemoths is something to be proud of? You're almost as bad as the Uranians!"

"No one insults Uranus!" boomed the yellow bearded man.

"It's hard not to, with a name like that!" said the tall woman nastily.

"Let's all just calm down," said the lunar dignitary, "I know some unpleasant things have been said but let's—"

"Shove it, moon-boy!" said the tall woman.

"Okay, I'm sensing some anger here. Why don't we—"

"Unpleasant? Unpleasant! She just insulted the Order of Uranus, an offense punishable by death!" The yellow bearded man began to get red in the face.

"Hmph, barbarians, all of you," muttered the woman with the beads in her hair.

"Well, we can't all be namby-pamby little peacemakers like moon-boy over here, and gods help us if we were all stuck up snobs like you Neptuni!" said the man in the black headdress.

"At least we don't regularly perform human sacrifices!" She sniffed.

Oh, this was not going well.

"We're all sick of explaining that to the rest of you; the Great Goddess Sat must be appeased if the sun is to continue to burn!"

The wild-haired man cleared his throat. "Actually scientific evidence has basically disproved this—"

"Don't give me your scientific evidence, Mercurian! Look where it's gotten us!"

"What, running water and adequate medical care?"

"Huh, what about the influx of lab-created hell-beasts, huh? Every time a giant howling monster rampages through the solar system, you'll find a broken collar lying around somewhere with a tag saying 'Property of some dim-witted, irresponsible Mercurian'. And, when he's called before the Intergalactic Council he'll say 'I only wanted to see what would _happen_ if I crossed a marauding land tiger with an angry snitter-vole! I _didn't know_ it would destroy half the galaxy, honest! Whine whine whine, don't kill my clearly dangerous creation; it's not his _fault_, poor baby!' Mad scientists, all of you," snapped the man with the black headdress.

"Well, if you can't appreciate the value of modern science—"

"Value! Hmph. You Mercurians can't appreciate the value of a paper bag!" said the woman with the beads.

"I demand an apology from the Jovian wench!" the yellow bearded man pointed one sausage-like finger at the tall woman.

"Wench? How dare you?"

"I say that you all –"

"SHUT UP MOON-BOY!" Everyone yelled.

"Hey, I am the official Lunar dignitary, and I don't have to put up with this! Do you know how much time the moon spends on sorting out your petty arguments?"

"The moon should mind its own damn business for once!" shrieked the gold woman.

It was all pretty much downhill from there. The fact that the boys were loudly demanding a story the whole time didn't help. Not one bit.

"Well, _excuse_ us for trying to promote Galactic peace!"

"'Malthea, we want a story!"

"Uncultured slob!"

"Story!"

"Sexist pigs!" This was, apparently, directed at the entire male population, rather than just the man with the yellow beard.

"Stoooorrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!"

"Mad scientists, mad scientists, mad scientists!"

"Wench!"

"Hypocrite!"

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

"Will someone shut those kids up?"

I fumbled with a book.

"Not that story!"

"Lumbering swine!"

"Noooo!"

"On guard!"

My eyes widened. "Um…could we, could we not have a duel in the middle of the playroom?"

"STORY!"

"Shut those kids up!"

"I can't, there's too much yelling!" Halfway through my sentence, everyone paused, perhaps to take a breath, and I was left screaming all by myself. I flushed.

"Er. Now that I've got your attention," I began, unwilling to waste such an opportunity, "Could it be possible to sort this—"

"Story, now!"

"Yes, in a minute—out another time?"

"I say—"

"Now!"

The lunar dignitary covered his ears. The boys had gotten their second wind and resumed hollering with new energy.

"We have to stop this noise!" he shouted. It was, quite possibly, the first statement that they could all agree upon.

"But how?" yelled the gold woman, struggling to be heard over the din.

"They want a story," I informed her.

"Well, give them a story!" boomed the man with the yellow beard.

"What they need is a good spanking!" howled the man with the black headdress.

"Now's not the time for disciplinary tactics," shouted the woman with the beads in her hair.

"Yes, we should just get them to stop the noise, for now!" The crimson robed man plugged his thumbs in his ears.

"I disagree—," the wild haired man went off, cupping his hands to amplify his voice. _Of course you do. _I thought. Here we go again.

"Everyone—" the lunar dignitary stood on his chair.

"Shut _up_, m—" began the tall woman.

"Let's hear what he has to say," said the soldier of time. It was hard to disagree with the tone of voice she used.

"Why don't we have a vote on it?" He yelled.

They chorused their approval.

The lunar dignitary hopped onto the table.

"No, you can't count the votes!" The wild-haired man waved him off. "We need a neutral party!"

All eyes turned to me.

"Uh…what should I do?" Getting down from the table, the lunar dignitary told me. I made my way to the center of the room and leaned against the table.

I coughed. "Okay! All in favor of reading a story?" The man with the yellow beard, the soldier of time, the woman with the beads in her hair, the lunar dignitary, the gold woman, and the man in the crimson robes raised their hands.

"All against?" The man in the black headdress, the tall woman, and the wild haired man raised their hands.

"So, it's six to three, in favor of reading it!" I winced, hoping that no one would call for a recount or anything. By now, I also had a pounding headache from the children's screaming, and a sore throat from all of the screaming I had to do to be heard over them.

To my surprise, all of the dignitaries seemed willing to go along with the verdict.

"Hey, guys!" I yelled to the children, "We're gonna read a story now!"

"Yay!"

"But everybody has to sit down and be quiet first!" I said. Sighing, they sat semicircle around a small stool. Even the dignitaries arranged themselves in the little yellow chairs. (You're never too old to hear a good story.)

I walked to the bookcase.

"What to read? How about 'The Little Carriage that Couldn't?" I held up the book.

"No!"

Okay.

"'Goodnight Asparagus'?"

No dice.

"We could try 'A New Coat for Mr. Bun-Bun'."

They made faces.

"Um… 'Where's Ronaldo?' "

I was beginning to get nervous.

"'The Tiger, the Itch, and the Boardroom?"

They refused.

"'Bad Things Happen to Little Boys Who Don't Obey Their Nurses' ?"

Alright, that one was never very popular. (At least, not with the children.)

After they turned down 'The Book of Inane Rhyming Couplets', 'Trite Morals for the Young and Impressionable' and 'Super Violent Mickey Goes to War-Town (part seven)', I was at my wit's end. The whole situation was compounded by the fact that I had an audience. The dignitaries appeared to find all this very funny.

I pulled book after book off the shelf, only to set each one down in the ever-growing reject pile.

Finally, I was down to the final two books.

"Hey, how about 'Perfect Table Manners and You'?" It was worth a shot.

"No!" Unsurprising.

"Well, I know you don't want to read 'The Pinkest Unicorn'," I held up the last book on the shelf, obviously a refugee from a time when little girls graced the playroom.

"Yay!" I blinked. Will wonders never cease?

"Are you sure?"

"Story!"

"Okay. Story. Whatever makes you happy. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, fluffy pink unicorn…" In truth, I didn't think it would make them happy. Oh how wrong I was.

They all sat quietly, listening to the story. Even Kunzite seemed mildly amused, though he was trying not to show it.

"…And then the pinkest unicorn conquered the whole world with her Magic Horn of Sweetness and Light, and she crushed her enemies beneath her sparkly, diamond encrusted hooves. The blood did flow through the streets like water, staining the pretty purple cobblestones, as the putrid stench of the bodies did flow through the air like soft dandelion petals. Amid the cries for mercy, amid the wails of the anguished, and the sobs of misery and woe, the pinkest unicorn did feast upon the delicious flesh of the gingerbread people, thus decimating their entire society in one pink, sparkly blow. All Hail the Pinkest Unicorn! Fear the Might of Her Goodness, Lest Ye be Destroyed by its Sheer, Unyielding Brilliance, Worthless Plebe! Hurrah. Hurrah. Hurrah. The End."

Such a nice story. It had always been my favorite, as a child, and it seemed that several of the female dignitaries remembered it as well.

"Good," said the man with the black headdress, "Now that it's over we can—"

"Again!"

Still misty-eyed and nostalgic, I agreed. But, after the forty-second re-read, even I was getting tired of that stupid unicorn.

"Shouldn't someone have come by now?" asked the gold woman, slumped in her seat.

"Wasps can be tricky." I said, voice hoarse from extolling the exploits of the evil equestrian creature.

"Again!"

"No more!" begged the dignitaries, "No more!"

"Wouldn't you like to hear a different—"

"Pinkest Unicorn!" I prayed to every god there ever was to deliver me from the screaming terror that was the Pinkest Unicorn. _Something, anything to prevent me from having to read that story again…_

Crash!

"What was that?" said the wild-haired man.

"Er…I didn't hear anything." I said, wringing my hands. Be careful what you wish for.

"AAAAH!" All heads snapped upwards, toward the sound.

"Now I know there's something."

"Oh that? That was me. Aaaah," I said, weakly, "It's a head cold. Yes."

BOOM!

"What, exactly, is going on here?" The gold woman eyed me suspiciously.

"Uh…nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is fine." _Oh yeah, real smooth, Amalthea. You might as well add 'There are no assassins here. Nope, no assassins at all.'_

Suddenly a troop of men crashed through the roof. They were dressed in black and their faces were covered.

"Alright, nobody move!" One guy pointed a huge blade in our direction.

Well, at least I wouldn't have to read 'The Pinkest Unicorn' again.


	5. Three Ring Circus

A/N: Well, it's been a while, but I LIVE! Sorry again about the insane number of OCs here…hope you don't find them too irritating. We will eventually be getting back to our regularly scheduled canon programming soon. (Also, for those who are wondering, the younger!inner senshi, and possibly younger!outer senshi will be showing up in a few chapters. Be forewarned, however, the inners will be babies. I'm still keeping the same approximate age ratio.)

Chapter Five: Three Ring Circus

I wasn't really worried, at first. I mean, we were surrounded by assassins, (and possibly wasps), but the second-to-worst part, the part where you worry and fret about said assassins and possible-wasps, was over. Besides, the soldier of time was with us.

Soldier of time, guardian of Pluto, the barren planet, she had slain hundreds, if not thousands of enemies. She certainly wouldn't let anything happen to us; the assassins were no match for her.

The dignitaries, for their part, seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Sailor Pluto," said the man in the crimson robes, stifling a yawn, "If you wouldn't mind?"

She didn't. Wordlessly, the soldier of time stepped forward.

"Want to play that way do you?" said one assassin. "Well, how about this?" Before I had time to react, he reached out and grabbed Endymion.

"'Malthea!" Endymion wailed. I stood agast. _He'll be killed! I'll be fired! _my mind rang.(Hey, you try being entirely lucid in such a situation.)

"Stay back or the kid gets it!"

Sailor Pluto stepped back. What more could she do? Endymion refused to stop howling.

Suddenly, I was reminded of the worst part: the part where they kill you.

"Are they gonna kill him?" Nephrite asked, eyes wide.

"Um…" Well, in one way, it seemed wrong to lie to him. Why protect them from the truth? They're just going to figure it out anyway. It would be best to simply lay it out. Honesty is the best policy.

Obviously, I lied like a Persian rug.

"No! Nobody's killing anybody!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that!" Said the second assassin, only it came out 'Ide buden't de so sure adout dat'. He sneezed loudly, without covering his mouth. Great, we were going to die _and_ catch all of his horrible assassin-germs.

"Everybody sit down!" The first assassin, clearly the ring-leader in this crazy circus, pointed at the yellow chairs.

There was a mad scramble for seating when the dignitaries saw that he meant business. Unfortunately, there were only nine chairs.

"Um…" I said, hoping that the lack of seating wouldn't be the cause of my demise.

"Get the rope!" The first assassin hollered. A large, apparently male entity lumbered into view. He carried several feet of thick rope.

If the first assassin was the ring-leader, then this guy was the strong-man. He muscled all nine dignitaries none too gently into the tiny chairs and trussed them up like prize piglets on market day.

"What about the rest of 'em?" said assassin number two, only, because of his head cold, it came out as 'Bud adout da rest ub em?'

This gave them pause for a minute or two. Finally, it was decided to secure each of the boys to one of the table legs.

"Hey, this one bit me!" ('Dey dis un bit me!') I felt a touch of pride and a whole full-body grope of fear. Why is it that two year olds are frightened by monsters under the bed, but a group of armed men in black does nothing to faze them?

"Oof!" Mister Germ fell over his own two feet. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have our clown.

"And her?" said the strongman.

"Arg…oh! She can hold the kid!" gasped the ringleader; Endymion proved to be quite the kick-boxer. The strongman pushed me onto the table and the screeching, hissing Endymion was deposited onto my lap.

"Don't move." I felt a cold blade against the back of my neck.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I mumbled, sitting up a little straighter. It's amazing what cold steel can do for one's posture.

"'Maltheeeaaaaaa!" Endymion hollered.

"Shut that kid up!"

"Shh, " I said, putting on my happy, peppy look-how-we're-not-going-to-die voice. I put my arms around him. "Don't worry. Nothing bad will—er well, don't worry, okay?"

"What's happening?" said a voice, probably Zoisite.

"They're going to assassiminate 'Malthea!" said Nephrite. Heavens no! Don't let them assassiminate me! I at least want to die in a correctly pronounced fashion.

"It's 'assassinate' and no, they're not, idiot," said Kunzite, "You have to be a political figure to be assassinated."

"Oh."

"They're just going to stab her, then?" said Jadeite.

"Yep." Kunzite leaned back against the table leg.

"Right through the heart?"

"Looks like it's gonna be in the back, the cowards."

Oh, the confidence was overwhelming.

"But, I don't want them to stab her!" said Zoisite, rather angrily.

"We don't have much say in it, do we? We're probably next."

"Really?" Zoisite said, with a bit more enthusiasm than I think the situation called for.

"Yep," he confirmed.

That Kunzite, always a ray of sunshine, eh?

"Kunzite?" asked Jadeite.

"What?"

"What's a political figure?"

"They are," he thrust his chin to the trussed-up dignitaries.

"So, are _they_ going to be assassinated, then?"

"Yeah, _they'll_ be assassinated." The dignitaries paled a little, though this was undoubtedly what they were all thinking.

"I don't see why 'Malthea can't be assassinated," grumbled Nephrite. _Yeah, why can't I be assassinated? I demand full-blown assassination, here!_

"She just can't, alright?"

"I bet she can so!"

"Can't."

"Well," said Nephrite, beginning to get red in the face, "well, let's just wait for those men to kill her, then we'd see if she was assassinated or not!"

"Idiot," muttered Kunzite, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.

Oh joy. This was not the conversation I had envisioned taking place before my untimely demise. (Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of my relatives standing around shaking their heads and saying "Well, it really _was_ death by chocolate, wasn't it?")

"Saw two guys stabbing each other once," said Jadeite, by way of conversation.

"You did not!" said Nephrite, who was apparently still feeling argumentative because I couldn't be assassinated.

"Did too." He stuck out his tongue.

"Was there a lot of blood?" Zoisite squirmed, craning his neck. (Jadeite was behind him, next to Nephrite.)

"Naw. Not too much. I mean, it wasn't a clear hit. Didn't kill him."

"Oh. Why'd he get stabbed?"

"Pfft, why does anybody get stabbed?" Jadeite waved him off, or tried to, anyway.

Zoisite thought hard. "Because a bunch of guys come in and tie them up?"

"Stupid," said Jadeite.

"Moron," countered Zoisite.

"Idiots," said Kunzite, to the world in general.

"Nit-wit," put in Nephrite, not to be left out.

"Alright," said the ringleader, banging the table, "that's enough out of you."

The thing they don't tell you about being held hostage is that it involves a lot of waiting.

A lot.

They seemed pretty tolerant of conversation, but, with a knife at my neck, I didn't want to push my luck. Endymion apparently felt the same.

The dignitaries, of course, held no such convictions.

"Hmph," sniffed the woman with the glass beads, "when I was held hostage on the first Trojan asteroid, they got down to business much faster." She leaned over to the tall woman, "I mean, a few people were killed right off the bat, none of this waiting around nonsense."

"Really?" said the tall woman, "Well, when Marielle and I," she tilted her head towards the gold woman, "were held prisoner on – what was it?"

"Neith," supplied the gold woman, Marielle.

"Right, when we were held prisoner on Neith—"

"That's right near Venus, by the way," put in Marielle, somewhat smugly.

"Yep. On Neith, we were held prisoner by this odd sect of women… what were they called? Oh. Yes. The Women-of-the-Veil-No-Mortal-Raised, or WOVNMR, for short. They had boiling oil poured on several of the captives."

"Oh my!" said the woman with the beads.

"Yes, and one of them was that awful girl from Mariner Academy! You remember her, Oksana?"

"Do I!" said the tall woman, "Her name was—"

"Olivia de Leslies!" They said simultaneously.

"Did you say Olivia de Leslies?" said the wild-haired man. "Small universe! I used to date her!"

"Did you?" said Oksana.

"Yes, haven't seen her since … oh, the whole Miranda affair—Jarl'll remember that," he gave a nod to the man with the yellow beard, "I had wondered what happened to her skin. She wouldn't say!"

"Well, now you know!" giggled Marielle.

"Pardon me," said the crimson robed man, "You and Franz were on Miranda when…"

"That group of Isiaci radicals took over the Museum of New Age Artwork? Yes!" boomed Jarl.

"So was I!" said the crimson robed man, "Third rack from the left, on the east side."

"Heh, they had me tied up over a small pit of fire on the north end. How was that rack? It looked pretty painful."

"Oh, it was, it was…but, between you and me, it was most wonderful for the first few minutes. It worked miracles for my back."

"Did it, Azar?" said the man in the black headdress, "I've been having trouble with mine ever since the upheaval at Mimas … they had me on one for a few minutes. I've never been the same."

"Hmm," said the crimson clad man, "Did they crank it clockwise? They did mine counterclockwise…I hear that it makes a difference."

"The upheaval at Mimas?" said the woman with the beads. "Wasn't that the one where—"

"A small band of vigilantes incited a riot at the courthouse? Yes. Ye gods, what a mess! There was torture to my left and deviancy at my right!"

"You haven't seen deviancy until you've seen the Great Pandemonium of '45, Set," said the wild-haired man.

"Franz, you do go on about that minor skirmish! It was a playground fistfight compared to the Ganymede Slayings!" said the woman with the beads.

"The Ganymede Slayings were a picnic compared to the Filibuster at Io, Bernadetta," put in Marielle.

"Ooh, the Filibuster at Io!" Everyone gasped. Even Sailor Pluto looked impressed.

"I have heard that they kept you there for three and a half months!" said Azar, the crimson clad man.

"We-ell, it was really more like four…but you know the papers, they like to cap it off at a nice, easy number."

"So, were you strapped to the wall or squeezed into the storage closet?" asked Oksana, pleasantly.

"It's funny that you ask, actually. They had me in the storage closet at first, but there were too many of us to shut the door properly. Me and a few others kept getting caught in the door-hinges…I still have scars," she laughed.

"Didn't they force you to eat wood shavings? How was that?" asked Franz, his hair flopping over his face.

"Not as bad as you'd think…there's a lot of fiber in wood shavings."

"Ah, roughage is good for the digestive tract, I always say!" thundered Jarl.

"Hey Nestor," asked Oksana, "what about you? Bet you've been in some really good hostage situations."

The man in white mumbled something, and Marielle squealed.

"No really! Did you hear that, Bernadetta?"

"I most certainly did!"

"Congratulations," said Franz.

"What?" asked Set, his black hat bobbing.

"It's his first time."

"Oh, that! I remember _my_ first time…late at night, the sound of screams, an angry man holding a pitchfork. Ah, youth." Set almost grinned.

"Just you wait, honey," said Marielle, "The good bit'll start soon."

"You see," said Oksana, "first they'll off some nobody… they like to go for bigwigs like us last."

"Yes, they are always killing one or two, to put the fear of God into us," said Azar.

"The way things are going," pointed out Franz, "looks like it'll be her. Then maybe one or two of the kids." How comforting.

"I bet that boy'll go last." Jarl jerked his chin towards Endymion. "They get skittish around the royals…"

"These three look rather amateurish … they don't even have an Iron Maiden or hot coals or anything … but we might still get a good show." Bernadetta's beads jangled.

"Sit back and relax!" Jarl seemed to be enjoying himself.

_Oh, so _now_ they're getting along, _I thought.

"All of you shut up!" The ringleader hissed. He started massaging his forehead, like he had a headache.

_I am locked in a room full of madmen_, I marveled. _And also, possibly, wasps. _I wasn't sure whether the distinctive buzz was a figment of my imagination or not.

"Are they gonna stab her yet?" whined Zoisite. "My arms are falling asleep."

Children are really so compassionate, aren't they?

"Be patient," said Kunzite.

"Release the hostages!" boomed a voice from above. I realized that it was coming from the impromptu skylight that the assassins had created in the ceiling. (Assassins—the ultimate redecorators!)

"Rescuers already?" said Oksana, almost disappointed.

"They're usually much slower than this," said Franz, turning to Nestor.

"No one's even lost any toes yet!" said Set.

"Improper, is what I call it," Bernadetta sniffed.

"Oh yeah?" said the ringleader, shaking his fist at the skylight. "We have the crown prince! Give in to our demands or we'll slit his throat!"

"Ooh, this is good!" said Marielle.

"They've got guts! I like it." Jarl said.

_Madmen_, my mind rang. _Everyone in this room is utterly insane. I am going to be stabbed in a room full of the utterly insane. And also, possibly, wasps._

"What are your demands?" The voice commanded, a tad less certain.

A wasp stung me on the nose. _Okay, definitely wasps,_ I revised.

We awaited their demands with bated breath, whatever they were. I wanted to know the name of the cause that I was about to be killed for.


	6. Awesome Senshi Powers

A/N: Hmm, this chapter is pretty action-packed. I tried to make it good and long to make up for the wait…

Chapter Six: Awesome Senshi Powers (or lack thereof)

"Demands?" Shading his eyes, the ringleader looked upwards. He had a funny expression on his face; in fact, he sounded as though he hadn't actually expected to get this far.

"Yes," boomed the voice, "What do you want?"

"Oh, yeah… Freedom to the asteroids!" He raised one fist in the air, eyes ablaze with obsessive foaming-at-the-mouth passion. Okay, maybe 'obsessive foaming-at-the-mouth passion' is too strong of a term, but he did look highly enthusiastic.

"That depends on the will of all the other planets in this solar system. Earth can't guarantee any such thing."

"What?" squealed another voice. It sounded familiar… "Of course we can!"

"Um…" the original voice-from-above dropped to a quieter tone, nearly inaudible, "We really can't, Your Highness. We don't have that kind of authorit—"

"They have my baby! Do _something_!"

"Your Highness, please calm down. I'll—"

"NOW!" She growled. The echoes of her voice reverberated throughout the room. All thoughts of Gaia as a happy-fluffy-rug-piddling poodle fled from my mind.

"Uh…" the voice cleared its throat, "Release the hostages!"

"Not until we get what we came for!"

"In no uncertain terms, we cannot guarantee the freedom of the asteroids. It's simply not within our power."

"What are we gonna do now?" ("Wad ahr be gonna do dow?") asked our old friend, Sneezy the germ-ridden clown.

"Wait, wait! Let me think!" The ringleader tore at his hair in frustration.

"You want I should kill her now, boss?" The strongman asked.

I winced as the point of the blade slipped down a few uncomfortable inches.

"Not yet…" The ringleader massaged his temples, "Okay boys, conference!" And then, to us, "Nobody get any funny ideas or you-know-what!" He made a slicing motion across his throat, accompanied by the appropriate sound effect, in the universal signal for swift, yet painful death. The ringleader held out Endymion's struggling form like a magic talisman as the three of them huddled up.

The waiting was the worst part. It felt like they were talking for hours. At first, I thought about the situation at hand. I mean, now that it was apparent that the thing they wanted was impossible, what would happen to us? I could've asked the dignitaries, but I was afraid that they'd have only too many stories of hostages that had outlived their usefulness. The three assassins couldn't very well just walk away from all this, either. They had gone too far to turn back.

One would think that the threat of my immanent demise would be enough to occupy the foremost of my mind for days, but this was not the case. After a while, the gravity of the situation must've been too much for my tired brain to handle. As time went by, my mind slipped to more mundane matters (for example, there were exactly thirty-two tiny scratches on the table I was sitting on) and then to downright insipid matters (what makes those little green bits in the soup always stick to the back of your teeth? If you try to fail and succeed, what did you just do? And, whose idea was it to call the wife of an earl a duchess? Why not an earless? I mean, the wife of a _duke_ is also a duchess, so it's like having the same word for two completely different things… then again 'earless' is such a funny word, but that could just be because we're all so used to duchess… still the title is already taken and it could lead to confusion…)

While I was deliberating the merits of duchesses versus earlesses, the ringleader finally straightened and walked over to the impromptu skylight.

"Alright, we have a new demand."

"State it."

"We want to see the king."

"Fine!" came Gaia's voice.

"I don't think that would be wise," said a third voice who could've only been King Phaeton himself.

"Now, Phaeton … you get in there and save our son RIGHT NOW!"

"Not just that king!" The ringleader called. "All the kings, from every planet. And the queens too."

"But that's preposterous!" came the voice, "They would never agree to that!"

"Saturn doesn't have a king or queen," grumbled Set. "We have the Psychopomp."

The ringleader glared at him. "Okay, fine. And the Psychopomp of Saturn."

"And Mars has a High Priestess…well, several High Priestesses now, do to the

Seceding of Phobos and Deimos, but—" started Azar.

"And the High Priestesses of Mars, all three of them," said he, through gritted teeth.

"Actually, there are seven," Azar said, "It is really a very amusing story…"

"Three, seven, eighty-billion if you like, we want all of them!"

"Venus has a Magistrate!" Put in Marietta.

"Shut up, all of you! We want the leading authority (or authorities) on every planet. Here, in person."

"This is madness!" the voice exclaimed.

"Those are our demands," the ringleader said, plainly.

"And just how do you propose we do that?" The voice was getting a tad snippy now. It seemed that it had completely lost control of the situation. (I could've sympathized, had it not been my own life on the line.)

"Blackmail, bribery…tell them all you're hosting a ball then throw them down," he shrugged, "we don't care how you do it, just do it. That is, if you ever want to see the Crown Prince alive again!"

Pause.

Another long, frightening pause.

"Um…" the voice from above droned.

I could tell that this was not a good sign.

"Well?" The ringleader tapped his foot, "Hurry up. We want to get this asteroid thing sorted out."

"Could you see your way to releasing a couple of the hostages?"

"What?" He blinked.

"Just one or two? Four or five, even? I mean, you have _fifteen_ people down there. Do you really need all of them?"

This is what diplomacy has come down to? But the voice-from-above did have a point. What did they need me for?I wasn't a public figure or anything. As Kunzite so helpfully pointed out, I couldn't even be assassinated.

"Er…well, I guess not…" the ringleader mused.

_Good, good,_ I thought. _Now release the innocent nurse maid! And at least a few of the children, while you're at it. Can Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite and Jadeite be assassinated? Hmm…they're not Endymion's royal guardians _yet_, right? Well, at least, they aren't on duty per se. But, then again they will be eventually …so does that make them political figures?_

"So you'll release a few of the hostages?" The voice asked, hopefully.

"We-ell, we could always kill off some of the unnecessary ones…" the ringleader said, doubtfully.

No! Bad idea! _Bad_ idea!

"See, it's like I said," mumbled Franz, "the girl, and then a few of the kids."

Hold on just a minute, now! It was dawning on me that this could really, truly be the end. To my surprise, just underneath the fear, I felt genuine anger. It was somewhat noble of the assassins to want to free the asteroids, but they were going about it all the wrong way. Innocent people shouldn't be harmed. I decided that, public figures or no, it wasn't fair to kill a bunch of little kids, especially over a political cat fight they barely understood. Zoisite was only two! How could you kill a two-year old because you don't like the way the higher-ups are handling the universe, (even if said two-year old does bite like an angry wolverine)?

Apparently, the voice-from-above was thinking along the same lines.

"The Imperial Crown of Earth highly discourages the killing of innocents," said the voice, all business once again. He seemed to be on firmer ground here; I figured that this was closer to the sort of thing negotiators were used to dealing with. "If you want to get out of this with your own lives, we advise that you not take anyone else's."

That was true…supposing the assassins killed us all, they'd definitely be executed. No question about it. But, providing that everyone escaped from the situation unscathed, there might be some chance of a lighter punishment.

Fifty or sixty years of hard labor sounded good to me.

Of course, if they harmed one hair on Endymion's head, Gaia would see to it that they would suffer for the rest of eternity and beyond.

The ringleader swallowed. I wasn't sure if he was familiar with Queen Gaia's darker side, although I would've staked a lot of money on the idea that he was familiar with the typical punishment for treason.

I hoped that the assassins weren't getting desperate. Desperation can force men into making hasty, unfortunate decisions. That was the last thing we needed.

At this point, I was pretty sure that help from above would not be forthcoming. We were at an impasse; the king's men couldn't try and save us, because, if they did, the assassins would kill Endymion, and the assassins couldn't release us because, if they did, the king's men would arrest and/or kill them.

However, while I didn't expect any actual aid, I was still surprised that the voice-from-above wasn't trying to do something to ease our minds, if not the situation. The voice seemed to have been making some headway in negotiating for the freedom of at least a few of us…maybe he could still convince the assassins to let the Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, and Jadeite go. (Unfortunately, I knew that Endymion's cause was near-hopeless—he was their primary bargaining chip. I doubted they would be willing to part with him.)

Even if the voice couldn't manage it, I thought it would make me feel a little better to know that he was trying.

Yet, for some reason, the voice wasn't saying anything at all. I strained my ears, listening.

There was _something_ going on up there; loud scuffling noises floated down from the hole in the ceiling that the assassins had made. Somebody was having a conversation, but they weren't making any effort to let it be heard by those of us down below.

"No… please let me…" I caught snippets of it, but couldn't make sense of them.

"…I don't think…"

"You listen to me right now!" Queen Gaia's voice blared, this time as loud as the voice-from-above had been. She must've taken his megaphone.

The assassins jumped, faces tilting skyward.

"You let my son go right now!"

"No!" hollered the ringleader. "Not until our demands are met."

"You have no demands! This nice young man here… what's your name again, dear?" She paused, "Evander… well isn't that a nice name? Your mother picked it? Yes, anyway," she cleared her throat, "Evander has already explained that your demands are impossible to meet. So, I don't see why you won't just give this silly thing up right now so we can all get on with our day."

"Your Highness," If I listened hard, I could make out the voice-from-above, aka Evander. "Please allow me to handle…trained professional…could be dangerous for you to…"

"No, I want to talk to these nasty ruffians myself, thank you very much!"

"But…"

"We won't give up on our goal!" called the ringleader. "Free the asteroids!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that nearly made me gasp. I caught myself just in the nick of time, luckily. I knew that I couldn't draw any attention to it, or all hope was lost.

"Give me my baby!"

Closer … closer… the assassins were distracted. They wouldn't notice what was going on until it was too late. My heart pounded so loudly that I was sure it would give the plan away.

"Freedom to the asteroids!"

_Please, oh please, hurry!_ I willed myself to remain still.

"It can't be done! Free my baby!"

"Not until the asteroids are no longer threatened by the greedy monarchies of this solar system!"

My eyes darted from the assassins, to the hole in the ceiling, and then back to the corner of the room, where our salvation was, with any luck, approaching. The deed would be tricky because of me and Endymion. The assassins probably wouldn't be able to make it to the other hostages in time, but we were directly in the range of fire.

"…" Gaia paused, presumably thinking, "Okay, the asteroids are free!" she said, finally. "Now give me back my baby!"

I resolved to make it as easy as possible for her. She knew that I knew, by this time, and I managed to catch her eye. I tried not to let my vision linger for too long, lest the assassins notice what (or rather who) I was staring at.

"You're just saying that! How do we know the asteroids are really free?" The ringleader retorted.

Maybe I could fall forward, off the table. If I could do it at the exact moment she sprung, the strongman behind me wouldn't be able to immediately stab me. Slowly, cautiously, I began to inch towards the edge of the table, making ready for the leap. It would hurt, no doubt, but, if I could do it right, at least I wouldn't be dead.

"Hand over the Crown Prince!" _So much for that tactic. Gaia should get points for trying though._

She got nearer and nearer and I held my breath. _Okay_, I told myself, _just give a quick hop at the right moment…hold your legs still so you don't kick any of the boys in the face…_

I couldn't see Sneezy or the strongman. The ringleader was off to the left of my field of vision, very nearly out of my sight, so I wouldn't be able to see exactly how she was going to manage it. By my estimation, she'd need to take all three out at once so that they couldn't retaliate.

I wondered how she was going to do it without hurting me or the boys.

"Never!" cried the ringleader, and just at that moment, Sailor Pluto leapt out from behind him, bringing her staff down upon his head. I took my cue and launched myself onto the floor.

I groaned as my knees connected with the carpet, praying that I hadn't broken anything. _Should I run? Should I stay where I am?_ Various scenarios filtered through my mind at super-speed.

I envisioned the strongman chasing me around the room, brandishing the knife. Then again, I realized, he could also stab me as I sprawled on the floor, precisely at the boys' eye level, no less. File that one under 'traumatizing childhood memories', why don'tcha'?

I made a split-second decision and leapt to my feet, jumping over the discarded toys that lay around the room like miniature hurdles.

"That's it!" encouraged Oksana, "Give 'em a good run for their money!"

Legs pumping, I raced to the opposite side of the room, trying to put as much distance between myself and the knife as possible. The strongman was close on my heels, panting heavily.

"Oh, this is good!" said Marietta, as I passed her chair.

"Is there always this much…excitement?" asked Nestor, shifting uncomfortably.

"Sometimes," replied Marietta, "But there's usually more blood."

Not helping.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, I'm going to die!_ _Run faster, run faster!_ I urged. I had never moved like this in my entire life, and I hoped that I would never have to again. Soon I ran out of space on the far side of the room and I found myself making a sharp right, sending me careening back towards the ringleader.

Uh-oh. I had gathered so much momentum by this time that I couldn't stop if I wanted to. (Not that I did, mind; remember that I was still being chased by a knife-wielding maniac.) The ringleader was already getting to his feet, one hand on his head, rubbing the sore spot.

Endymion wriggled in his grasp, hollering as loud as he could. He did that five-year old thing, the one where they make their whole bodies go completely limp, and he slid out of the assassin's grasp like greased rubber.

I grabbed him by the arm and bolted, bowling the ringleader over in the process.

"'Malthea! You're ripping my arm off!"

"Sorry!" I cried, panic-stricken, "We need to run faster, though!" I scooped him up and dove, just as Sneezy snatched for his arm. Sailor Pluto came up behind the germ vector, knocking him out with a crazy martial arts-ish move that must've taken some time to perfect. I couldn't describe it if I tried—at this point everything was a horrible blur.

The dignitaries were hollering encouragements, the boys screamed, and the remaining assassins howled in pain and/or rage, and I panted, and all the while Gaia was yelling down the hole.

"What's going on down there? Are they hurting my baby? Somebody tell me what's going on!"

"Please stay away from the hole, Your Highness!" Evander shouted, loud enough for me to hear, but still not as loud as Gaia.

Oh no, the last thing we needed was for Gaia to fall down the hole in the ceiling and break her spine.

I huffed and puffed as I made it around the perimeter of the room for what seemed like the thousandth time. I was so not in shape for this kind of thing; frankly, I wasn't sure if an Interplanetary Games grade athlete was in shape for this kind of thing.

Sailor Pluto, for her part, was relying on pure brawn for this fight. Earlier, I'd expected her to use some of her Awesome Senshi Powers. I'd never seen anybody use her Awesome Senshi Powers before, so I'd been looking forward to it. Then again, Sailor Pluto was very very powerful, and her Awesome Senshi Powers might've been a little too Awesome for a hostage situation. As much as I wanted to see some amazing magical feats, I also didn't want to get caught in the attack and end up as a charred smear on the carpet.

Besides, I was concentrating so hard on running that I probably wouldn't have gotten a good view of the Awesome Senshi Powers, anyway.

In fact, I was concentrating so hard on running that I barreled into the mammoth wall of meat that was the strongman.

_So_ not the smartest thing I've ever done.

Sailor Pluto looked up from her business with the by now quite dazed ringleader and rushed over, but it was too late.

"I got 'em!" He yelled, delighted. One gigantic hand was wrapped around my arm. Struggling, I dropped Endymion.

"Run!"

He made a break for it, and for a minute it looked like he was going to make it. Sailor Pluto stopped dead in her tracks as the strongman grabbed Endymion by the leg, his knife clasped between his teeth.

I was dumped on the ground unceremoniously. The strongmen pulled the knife from his mouth and pressed it to Endymion's throat. (And to think, when I left the moon, I'd wanted _excitement_!)

"What are they _doing _down there?" Gaia bawled.

No one could find the voice to answer her.

Thinking quickly, Sailor Pluto ran to her empty chair and dragged it over to the still-stunned ringleader. She lifted him by his wrists, forced him into the chair, and tied him up with the rope that she herself had left dangling in two broken pieces only minutes before. For good measure, she poised her staff just above his head.

"Release the Crown Prince," she said to the strongman, "Or I'll kill your leader."


	7. The Return of Mr Snuffles

A/N: Finally, we're getting rid of some of these OCs. Bwahahaha. Guess what? Another younger!canon character shows up! Also, we get our first glimpse of the Shitennou's parents. (And after that I think you'll understand why they're all so screwed up later.)

Oh and baby!Inner Senshi next chapter for sure.

* * *

Chapter Seven: The Return of Mr. Snuffles

The strongman looked from Endymion to the ringleader and back again, unsure of what to do. He clearly wasn't used to making decisions any more difficult than deciding whether to snap someone's neck or slit his throat.

"It's all right!" said the ringleader, "I'm willing to die for my cause!"

_Well, good for you, but I'm not. _I blanched. The strongman looked to the ringleader, and then to Sailor Pluto, and back again. It became evident that they'd reached a stalemate. You could've cut the tension in the room with the nail of your little finger.

I sighed. We'd been in here for hours without so much as a bathroom break. Lunch had come and gone. It felt like today would never end, and all of us would spend the remainder of eternity in this room, frozen in our respective positions.

Suddenly, the strongman started shaking and jiving. He dropped Endymion, who landed with an undignified thud, got up, kicked the strongman in the right shin, and ran across the room to take refuge beneath the table and make faces at his guardians.

The strongman ignored this for reasons beyond my understanding. He seemed to be very preoccupied with his left leg.

Seeing her chance, Sailor Pluto clocked him over the head with her staff. It wasn't exactly the display of Awesome Senshi Powers I had been expecting, but still, it got the job done. The strongman's legs buckled beneath him and he fell into a crumpled yet gigantic heap.

A small green creature wriggled out from his pant-leg.

"Mr. Snuffles!" exclaimed Endymion. He picked up the snake, which wound itself around his hand in what I assumed to be a gesture of affection. (That or it was just hungry. Who can tell with snakes, anyway?)

Nonetheless, I was glad to see that my old nemesis Mr. Snuffles had found a way to make himself useful after he defected from the camp.

As Pluto stood triumphantly over the fallen bodies of our attackers, rescue forces rappelled down from the hole in the ceiling and lifted us out of the room. Once we set foot on the roof, Gaia hugged Endymion so hard that his eyes bugged out. She held him, jumping with glee. For a moment, I worried that she was going to fall off the edge and send the both of them to their deaths.

Meanwhile, the dignitaries filed away from the hole and down the ladder onto the ground, shaking King Phaeton's hand as they went.

"Excellent show," boomed Jarl. "It started slow, but was by far the best hostage situation I've ever been in." He pumped Phaeton's hand up and down so fast that it began to turn an interesting shade of purple.

"The same goes for me," said Marielle.

"It was the only hostage situation I've ever been in," put in the lunar dignitary.

The king handled all this with suitable grace. He stood by to make sure everyone got out safely and kept an encouraging face, even when Set tried to tell him, in detail, about every hostage situation he'd survived in the past.

When this was taken care of, he turned to me. "Thank goodness _that's _over with. I think the children's parents would like to see them," he said. "Also, your cousin is waiting for you," he nodded to a figure a few feet away, bundled in blankets. I nodded gratefully and started to walk towards my cousin. "Oh, and Amalthea?" the king said.

I looked back.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, your Majesty," I said, surprised. I didn't really think I had done anything worth being thanked over. Basically, I'd just run for my life, which seemed to be the most logical course of action at the time.

Still, it was nice to be appreciated.

My legs shook with relief as I hugged my cousin. "Oh, Phoebe," I said, "You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

"I know, I know," she said, patting my back. "I just felt awful. I had to come because, you see, I realized that if I hadn't been sick, it would've been me in there instead of you…and I just couldn't have lived with myself if anything had happened…I'm so glad you're alive!"

"Yeah. Me too," I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "You should be in bed, you know. You're never going to get better if you don't get some rest."

"Yes, mom," said Phoebe, rolling her eyes. I felt as though maybe everything was going to go back to normal.

Everyone congregated in the courtyard for an unofficial party, or basically what amounted to a giant gossip fest, over the day's unusual events. People jammed into the courtyard, some standing elbow to elbow; it felt like everyone in a ten mile radius showed up.

Phoebe, despite my protestations, decided to hang around for a while longer, pointing out various people to me. One great thing about my cousin was that she was a gossip magnet; if somebody was squirreling away palace funds, or sleeping with someone unsuitable, or had a deep dark secret that they'd shrivel up and die if anyone discovered, Phoebe would be the first one to know.

"See that man over there?" she jerked her chin across the way. "That's Lord Tanzanite. His niece, Lady Jade, supposedly ran off with this guy from—"

"Excuse me," said a woman, approaching swiftly. "Are you Amalthea?" The only appropriate word for her voice was 'lilting', and she seemed very familiar with her corona of red-gold hair.

"Um, yes," I said.

"I am Lady Celestite, Zoisite's mother." He peered out from around her legs. _That explains it_, I thought. I should've known from the hair. Now that I looked at her, I realized that Zoisite was the spitting image of his mother, right down to the bright green eyes.

"Oh!" I said, and there was an awkward moment where I wondered if I should be curtsying. She didn't seem to be expecting me to; instead she stood with her dainty hands clasped at her waist, smiling slightly.

"I just wanted to thank you for watching over my son. It was a horrible situation for everyone, and thanks to you, he doesn't seem too traumatized from it."

"Um… you're welcome. Happy to do it," I said.

"Well, it was very much appreciated." She bowed her head ever so slightly so that her eyes caught the lasts rays of the afternoon sun, shining with reflected light. Then, giving a demure nod in parting, she strolled away. Her long braid swung down her back in time with her steps.

"She seems nice," I said, wonderingly. It was hard to reconcile that sweet voiced woman with the two year old who'd kicked me in the shins yesterday.

"Yes," said Phoebe, with a funny expression on her face, "she can be."

"Can be?"

"Well, you know, I've heard…" Phoebe averted her eyes, putting a finger to her lips, "well, it doesn't really matter what I've heard. It's just… I always had the feeling that…oh never mind! I'll let you draw your own conclusions."

Now, that wasn't like Phoebe at all. Drawing conclusions was practically Phoebe's job; she _lived_ for it. I frowned slightly and made a mental note to ask her about it again later. Maybe she would be more willing to talk in private.

"So," said Phoebe, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. (_Hmm_, I thought.) "You haven't met any of their parents yet? Other than _her_, I mean." Phoebe said 'her' in the same way someone else might've said 'slimy mutant slug-beast'.

"No, none other than Endymion's. I mean, I haven't been here all that long." In truth, I hadn't even thought about the boys' parents, what with everything going on. They all must've had one hell of a day today.

"Hmm, well, it wouldn't be proper for me to introduce you, but I'll point them out to you so that you'll be prepared when you see them coming."

"Okay," I said. I didn't want to be caught off guard again, like I had been with Zoisite's mother. It was disconcerting to talk to someone who knew all about me when I didn't have any idea who she was.

Phoebe took a quick look around. I didn't think she'd be able to find any of the boys' parents in that jungle of people, but I was wrong.

"Okay, so that couple over there by the reflecting pond? The woman in the pink dress and the dark haired man? Those are Jadeite's parents."

I decided that Jadeite must've been found in the cabbage patch, because his father and mother, Kyanite and Fluorite, looked nothing like him at all. Fluorite had red hair in a short bob and Kyanite's nose seemed to be devouring his face.

Nephrite on the other hand, bore a striking resemblance to his mother and father. Rhodanite and Pyrite looked suave, sophisticated, and also very much alike themselves. They both had thick, auburn hair, they both had blue eyes, and they both had identical glasses of red wine, half filled, though nobody else seemed to be drinking. (Actually, neither of them was drinking, either. They were just swilling the liquid around in their glasses as they talked, almost rhythmically.) In short, they could've been brother and sister. I rather hoped that they weren't.

"That's Jadeite, Zoisite, and Nephrite covered," Phoebe said. "Who have we missed? Oh, Kunzite's father." She gave a quick glance around the courtyard. "Hmm… now where could he be? I don't see him…oh! There he is."

"Where?" I said.

"Oh, the shrubbery's in the way." She grabbed my wrist and pulled me back a few feet. "See? _That's_ Lord Azurite."

A scowling man with long iron colored hair stood in a half circle with a few other people. He didn't look particularly interested in what they were saying. I stared for a few seconds trying to place him in my memory. And then it hit me. I gasped.

"It's him!" I sputtered, jaw dropping.

"Him? Have you met before?" Phoebe asked, confused.

"Oh, we've met," I said. "We've definitely met." I grimaced.

Phoebe laughed, "Yep, that's how people usually look when they've met Lord Azurite."

It wasn't funny, though. With any luck, I would never have to interact with him.

Who knew that Kunzite's father would turn out to be the same jerk Mrs. Pease had rescued me from on my first day?

* * *

After getting over the shock of the first and second day, the next five days were easy. I settled into a comfortable routine with the boys, and Phoebe finally got to have a rest.

At that point, I thought everything was going smoothly. I'd had my little bit of excitement, which was what I came for, and now my life was settling down into a series of more or less orderly days.

But on my seventh day at Latmus…well. Let's just say that I soon realized that those fairly peaceful five days must've been sent to lull me into a false sense of security.

It all started when a red-robed advisor came to talk to me as I was feeding the boys their breakfast.

"Amalthea?" he asked as he entered the room. I jumped and did a double take, hoping that either a) he wasn't one of the advisors I'd met previously or b) if he was, then my lack of recognition wouldn't show on my face. It was still hard to tell them apart. It didn't help that none of them introduced themselves properly.

"Yes?" I responded, wondering what all this was about. At _least it probably isn't assassins_, I thought.

"You'll be looking after a few extra charges for the next few days." He wrung his hands apologetically. Perhaps he thought I'd be upset.

"Oh," I said. "How many?" After assassins, it takes a bit more than one or two extra kids to look after to faze you.

"Um…let me see…five."

"Five," I repeated, slowly. I blinked. I wasn't exactly panicking, but I was wondering exactly who was put in charge of the delegation of duties. If I had a name, then perhaps I could find this person and knock some sense into him.

What kind of idiot decides to put one nursemaid in charge of _nine_ children?

The advisor must've seen the enraged look upon my face. "But it's okay," he said, clearly used to dealing with nursemaids flouncing off in a huff, "It's not as much as it sounds. Four of them are babies." Spoken like someone who has no idea of the basics of childcare.

"But that makes it worse! Babies require lots of time and energy—"

"Oh, please don't quit!" The advisor broke down, his eyes tearing up. "I'll lose my job if you do! They always quit after a few weeks, and then the one time we could hang onto one, she gets sick…and they sent me to tell you about the extras, but if you quit I'll—"

"Whoa, slow down! It's okay. I'm not going to quit. It's really not so bad. Besides, Phoebe's my cousin and she won't be able to heal if somebody doesn't cover for her."

"Oh. Well then," the advisor composed himself, relieved, but obviously feeling a bit foolish, "That's okay."

"Yes," I said, trying to sound soothing. "It's all okay. Do you know when they're coming?"

"The first of them will arrive in a few hours—that's the older one." The advisor sat down. He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. "You wouldn't happen to have a glass of water?"

"Sure," I said, fetching one.

"And maybe a sandwich?" he asked hopefully, when I returned.

I gave him a warning look. He paled and started to look very preoccupied with his glass of water. This one seemed to be a bit younger than the other advisors, a far as I could tell. Maybe that's why they sent him to do this.

"What about the children?" I asked.

"Hmm… the older one, a girl—her name is—um, oh dear, well—she's the daughter of one of His Majesty's oldest friends, a Lord Morganite. I can't remember that name—hold on, it'll come to me…anyway, she's four."

"Four," I said. "A girl." I glanced at the boys, who were currently chewing up their food and showing it to one another, and wondered how a girl would fare in this sea of testosterone I was living in. Then I felt the need to sit down. "And what about the babies?"

"They'll be arriving this afternoon, or maybe tomorrow. They're very important…the heirs to the thrones of the inner planets. Their parents are all staying for a pre-Interplanetary Games party."

"And how long will they be here for?" I brightened considerably. If they were only here for a party, then perhaps it would mean only a day's extra work for me.

"I—I'm not sure. Maybe until after the Games are over."

My heart sunk.

"Well," the advisor stood up hastily, looking at me as though I was an explosive. "Lord Morganite and his daughter should be here in a few hours, so I'm sure there's a lot you have to do—" he made his exit. "Oh wait!" he started, poking his head around the doorframe.

"Yes?" I asked. _Please don't let there be twenty more kids he forgot to mention._

"Her name! Just had it—it was, it was…" he tapped his forehead, "Beryl! That was it. Her name is Beryl."

He stood silent for a second. His words hovered in the air, strangely ominous.

"Oh," I said, trying to make the best of things. "Well, that's a pretty name, isn't it?"

* * *

The adviser left shortly after that, and I was left to figure out how to clean the boys up as fast as possible. I had managed to curb their food fights, but occasional handfuls of porridge still ended up smeared across somebody's shirt.

I knew that the king would want them to look nice for his old friend. Therefore, I spent the next few hours carefully scrubbing, changing, wiping and brushing them until they gleamed like perfectly polished gemstones.

By the time Lord Morganite and his daughter arrived, I was in high spirits. Now, I decided, would probably be a great time to practice looking after girls. I should look upon the extra children, especially the infants, as a blessing in disguise. After all, I would soon be looking after the moon princess full time and what could be better preparation for the job than looking after other little princesses?

And anyway, I reasoned, in Beryl there would be another girl to even the odds up between me and the boys. Also, I had always preferred dress up to being whacked with wooden swords.

So, really, once Lord Morganite and his daughter had entered the play room, I was feeling quite calm. _This won't be so bad after all._ I thought. _It'll work out just beautifully._

Beryl, as it turned out, was a chubby little girl with freckles and a mop of frizzy red hair. She wore a dark blue dress of crushed velvet.

"Now, Beryl, you be good," said her father as he dropped her off.

"Yes, Daddy," she said. She stood with her hands folded, watching as he left. I gauged her reaction. I hoped she wasn't going to be the type of child that cried when her parents left; I hated crying and found that it tended to be contagious.

To my relief, Beryl did not cry. Instead, she stood quietly and bit her lip as if contemplating a matter of great importance.

Beryl and the boys regarded each other.

_This is it_, I thought, _if they'll only get along_, _everything will be smooth sailing_.

Very seriously, Beryl looked each of the boys in the eye in turn, sizing them up.

The boys, for their parts, were actually being fairly well behaved. I didn't think that they knew what to do with a girl any more than a fish knew how to bake bread, but they didn't seem to be openly shunning her. That had to be a good sign.

But then Beryl winded towards the end of her appraisal. Having looked over, in turn, Jadeite, Nephrite, Zoisite, and Kunzite, she paused and smiled.

I didn't like that smile one bit. It was the smile of a cat that'd just caught the canary.

I had hoped that they could be friends. I had hoped that they could simply play together for a day or so, without any major incidents.

But all those hopes flew out the window when Beryl took one look at Endymion, opened her mouth, and said: "You're my boyfriend!"


End file.
